Her closeness seems to disturb his, well, whatever he was doing on the ground. After tossing her a sarcastic quip (to which she does not respond), he slowly lifts himself upwards to an awkward kneeling position. Rin sees him glance at his bottle, now felicitously dancing among the sea foam, soon to be reclaimed by nature's gentle processes, and can't help but wonder what has been occupying his time. His face, somewhat sloppy-looking and dusted with the slightest bit of sand, is bruised in one area. At his sides, blood that the salty swash could not wash away reddens his knuckles.
Though a notorious smuggler, Rin doesn't recognize him. Perhaps in Haulani's underbelly, they know his name as well as they know the tunnels of Rae's Fingers, but here on the shore, he is as much of a nobody to her as she is to him.
The man inquires if it is dawn and Rin stares at him blankly, unsure if he is being serious or not. Was he considering the possibility that it could be sunset instead? No, there was no way. The sun would be in an entirely different place if it were setting. "Yes," she decides to answer. Perhaps he was disoriented. The shoreline was squirrely, after all.
"Are you heading to the port?" she questions, moving a step closer to him as she reaches her small hand outwards, not in greeting but rather for him to grab and pull himself up so he may once again be on his feet.
