Adam nodded, his agreement entirely unfeigned. Often he had thought of the waves as music of themselves, a sound similar to a heartbeat or a lover's rhythmic breathing during sleep. He found it so soothing, in fact, that for his beachside runs - few and far apart as they were - he left his mp3 player at home, perfectly content without his almost omnipresent tunes. These were Jörmungandr's thoughts more than his own, of course, but that truth still lay beneath his own awareness.
His head had canted curiously upon hearing the name; that, too, seemed familiar. Regardless, he liked the man's handshake, firm but not crushing, and pulled away with a distinctly positive first impression. "So you're in a band, huh," Adam said, in his hesitation drawing out his words. He tore his eyes away from the floating object, which took on a more decisive shape the closer it drifted. His curiosity was piqued, but he had no desire to appear rude. "I feel like I've seen you before. What's your band's name?"