Anton looked from Angelina to the ocean and back again, then down at the equipment lying on the beach. When no clear solution immediately presented itself, he scanned the beach for something to anchor the poles with, just as she'd been doing. It didn't immediately register that he'd fallen quiet and rather rudely so. The moment it did, he glanced nervously up at the woman before him. There weren't many people to talk to on his father's estate, remote as it was, so the habit of silence was something he'd carried with him all his life. In balance, it left him resourceful and quick to find answers to problems. This case was a bit different. He knew very little about any but the earliest version of Quidditch and less about water polo, though the game sounded intriguing.
"I don't believe it's rubbish," he said softly. "A bit difficult, given the nature of the ocean, but not necessarily impossible. There are several possible avenues to take. First, do you know anyone still in possession of their magic? That would likely be the simplest option. Second, have you thought of placing the poles and net on land and changing the style of play slightly?"
He shook his head ruefully.
"I apologize again. My mind is still somewhat overwhelmed by all of this." Anton motioned at their surroundings.