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This part of the beach wasn't too bad: nothing horrendous had washed up on shore, no rocks to break boxes and send goodies scattered into the sand, and no monsters threatening in the distance. It wasn't exactly the beautiful image pictured in travel catalogues, but it still held a certain beauty -- and novelty, to a kid raised in Montana whose only beach exposure before had been Bryton.

So he sat in the sand, for maybe the first time, with new boots settled next to him and the cuffs of his pants rolled up almost to his knees, his feet still wet from a brief adventure out into the shallows. Maybe this wasn't the clean waters of Jamaica, or Costa Rica, or wherever the rich people went for whitewashed adventures in the caribbean, but it was still tropical. Bermuda.

So he watched the water, arms tangled around bony knees, damp and tousled, and couldn't help but smiling out at the water. Ever was still new enough for it to be novel.

There was a lag: a pause before Ever's head turned, his expression baffled, like he couldn't believe the idea that someone else possibly was on the beach. He'd been lost in thought, perhaps, or staring at the waves. And it took him a bit to shake back into himself, to come into focus and recognize the young man waving at him as another hunter in a white coat ---

Ever rolled up to stand, slowly, sand catching in the cuffs of his pants and tumbling in a fine mist around him. He swiped one hand through his hair and then waved back, only slightly befuddled by strangers greeting him so cheerily.

So many people on the island seemed full of morose scowls.

"...hi?" The hesitance was a familiar one for those who went to big parties full of vague acquaintances. It meant do I know you?.

"Uh. Ever." He'd shake, at least, and it wasn't too horrendously awkward: not comfortable, or easy, or practiced, but he didn't flinch, and he made at least some effort to curl his hand in around Milo's. Thoughtlessly, he looked away, taking in a sweeping look of the shore and the sand and the waves beating in, and he couldn't help but smile. With no bodies, it was rather pretty.

"I've been here a month I guess, but this is my first time down here, you know?" And then he hesitated, thinking. "Or staying, at least. I poked around in the sand a few times, dug up crumbling pieces of trash..."

He shook his head, finally looking back to Milo.

Ever had to blink back into focus, considering Milo like he wasn't sure if that was a joke or not. Really, he just assumed that everyone had ended up in the dessert, struggling to remember death, fighting against creatures far larger than themselves. Already his memories of the place were muddled with the dreams he'd had since, so he had to lick his lips and try to pick out the truth from his imagination.

"...the tower in the dessert, just that. And then leave, in New York, which was a great ******** relief, let me tell you." He shook his head, hand taken back to root in his pocket. "Sleep in a real bed..."

That made Ever blink, leaning in to look at the assortment of goodies Milo was toting around with him -- and he, at least, had already put thoughts of the tower aside. He didn't want to talk about it, or think about it; off-island travels were much more pleasant to consider. And so he'd poke at the candy and look, just faintly, bemused. Shaking his head a bit.

"You went on break, and this is what you brought back?" It was teasing, but lightly so, his eyes flicking up to Milo's face. "I'm alright."

There was a pause -- five seconds in which Ever considered saying Far Too Much about his leave -- and then he shrugged, quirking a smile instead. He nodded down to the pack as he sank down to sit next to Milo. Wiser to keep things light with relative strangers. Sometimes he had common sense.

"I didn't get weird gelatin snacks, but I got enough alcohol and cigarettes to last me a while." He dropped his boots next to him, toes curling absently into the sand, and looped arms over his knees. "At least long enough to last me until the next day off. Assuming I don't end up trading half of it away, or repaying debts..."

He shook his head a little, attention resettling on Milo. Assessing. "I should probably save up for a new bed. Can I do that? Is it even possible to get a bed here? I mean, what are the chances that it would even fit through the portal...?"

"I don't need a bigger room, although out of the basement would be great." He shook his head, eyeing the snacks again: and Milo's premonition, if it were that, would prove true. He'd grab something strange and familiar mostly to have something to do with his hands, to turn it over and study unfamiliar ingredients and, eventually, crack it open to see what was inside.

One was enough, popped into his mouth, chewing slowly, for Ever to decide it wasn't his cup of tea. But he'd hold onto the little bag anyway. It was only polite, since Milo had been kind enough to offer.

"How long have you been here?" The question came to him slowly, as he realized this should be more than a one-sided kind of thing. "How long does it usually take?"

"So just sit around and wait to see what happens, and otherwise do whatever they tell you." It was dry, but he was more amused than he was annoyed -- offering the bag of gummies back to Milo because there was no way he was eating any more of those. Maybe someone else would enjoy them more. Ever simply wasn't much on sweets anyway, especially not sweets that had a faintly plastic vibe to them. He twitched a smile and shook it to make sure Milo would take it.

"Is there somewhere you can actually swim around here? I've heard stories about tentacles that pull you under." He shifted as he said it: not quite standing, but preparing.