Mihail had not expected to end up following the group elsewhere, but he supposed he could not stand mournfully on a mountaintop for all that long, no matter how aesthetically pleasing the location might have proved for his feed. They were not overly annoying, at least, which made them sufficiently tolerable as a party with which to spend the rest of the day. Besides, all the other intricacies of preparing for a show were never all that entertaining (and he did so hate standing around and waiting worthlessly), so it was hardly as though there was much else to do. He didn’t much like the walk on the beachfront, if mostly due to their proximity to the water and the persistent worry that the sand might prove damaging to his gorgeous shoes that were not entirely suited to the current environment, but fashion was fashion, and he bled fashion.

They lost most of the group on the way. The football player — the one who thought himself such a big shot when he was hardly worth a millionth of a Thanasi — had been stranded atop the cliff. One of the girls too had gone, running madly off into the water as if it were something enjoyable and not liable to kill her if she mis-stepped and found herself too deep. Now, it was just Mihail and the other girl, whose name he had gleaned more from her conversation with the others than a genuine interest. She was under the illusion that he would want to hang out, as if that were something he did, and he only agreed because he found vague amusement in the prospect and had little else to do.

“We can,” he replied with a certain nonchalance, unbothered by which of the options she selected when they all felt thoroughly outside his typical ballpark. “I do not like heavy foods, and I am rather certain that most of the sustenance they have on offer here falls into that category. It is all fried and awful and full of calories, and, you know, I prefer something real. Less…carbohydrates. I do not wish to have to book an emergency meeting with my nutritionist solely because I made the mistake of eating here.”

Mihail glanced vaguely in the direction of the fair events, attempting to assess the games that were on offer even though they were far from close enough to get a proper view, no matter how sharp his eyesight usually was. “I suppose one of the games shall do. Do they have archery?” It felt unlikely, but it was at least something at which he excelled, and that was what mattered. “Or perhaps we can take a glance at one of those souvenir stalls. I do so love to shop.”