His eyes snapped back to her and his face creased into a huge smile. Lydia, meaning beautiful one, noble one, from Lydia, a region of the Mediterranean now better known as Turkey. Saint Lydia of Thyatira, the seller of purple cloth, Paul's first disciple, the first convert of Christianity in Europe.
Of course this was a different Lydia, but as his thoughts splintered he forgot the strange aura she gave off. "Oh. Yes. That's good. Hello Lydia. I am Castiel." He beamed down at her.
The waves! His attention snapped back again, and he waded a little further out into the water. "Come look! You know, waves don't really move up onto the beach from the open water? The water molecules are moving in circles, up and forward and down and back. They look like they're coming in, but in the grand scheme of things, they stay mostly in place. Isn't that amazing?