An incapacitated mind is not always a side effect of drunkness. Though intoxication is Rin's first thought as she notices the man down the beach, she knows ailments, anguishes, or even general despondencies could bring a person to such a state. Yet, she has no desire to evaluate the stranger, so she looks away from him. Assuming he has preoccupations with more important things than a girl admiring a sunrise, she additionally doesn't worry that he will try to speak with her.
So her eyes stay focused on the tide, on how it licks the shore to the beat of the ocean's heart with an excellently uncontrolled ebb and flow. In moments like this, it seems almost as if she loves the land, and by extension, its people. There'd never been an instance when she truly defined how she felt about her home, for like the tide, her nationalism did ebb and flow.
But she is pulled once more from her thoughts as reality tries to grasp at her in its unique way by sending the man down the beach to the ground, but Rin only sees turbulent grace in it: a man sprawled out on the coast with the sun blooming over choppy waters just behind him. It's poetic in its way. She hadn't been directly observing him, but when she caught the tail-end of the stranger's fall to the sand from the corner of her eye, he solidly earned a large portion of her thoughts.
Finally, when he makes no move to recompose himself, she moves a little closer to analyze the situation (noting in the process that, yes, he is still alive). "That was interesting," she eventually comments in a way that implies neither negative or positive connotation, something as impassive as her expression.
