She had wanted, quite desperately, to speak more on his work, to delve into the nature and means of his writing. Creativity had always been of interest to her, as she felt she exhibited so little of it herself. Where Fiona had danced - though under duress - and certainly expressed herself in countless other ways, it had been Karin's lot to toe the line, to pursue a solid, scientific career, to never try her hand at stranger and less stable seeming fields. With writing, as with art, music, and all branches of their ilk, the creative process eluded her, and had therefore been a point of curiosity to her since time out of mind. But then his final question came, pulling her back to herself from that rabbit trail's temporary comfort.
"I..." She trailed off, glancing back over her shoulder. The eyes blinked back at her, joined now by yet another pair. Their edges crinkled, as if hinting at curving smiles hidden beneath the waves. She shuddered at their glinting, gleeful looks, and turned her gaze away, seeking the solid comfort of Dominic's warm features. She bit her tongue so hard it nearly bled; with a soft and quickly checked groan of pain, she forced herself to speak.
"I think I see something," she said. Suddenly she was grateful for the relative darkness of the night, as she felt the deep flush of embarrassment stealing across her cheeks. "In the water. They're... following us." She laughed, an unsettling and off kilter sound. "Maybe it's just stray dogs. Do you..." She swallowed hard, fear naked in her eyes as she looked to Dominic. "Do you see that?" She raised one arm, pointing into the surf, her hand visibly trembling in the firelight.