[ it's true, actually— fyodor had looked like the most unapproachable person on this beach, and with the way he'd been staring out at the line of the ocean, gojo had the distinct feeling that the other was, yes, present, but equally somewhere else entirely. which— didn't deter him in the slightest, because gojo's the type to walk headlong into trouble, so much so that it has come back to bite him (every once in a while).

the hand that's placed in his is so narrow that it's more like a tied bunch of twigs than a hand, but, it's rougher than he expected, and he gives it a companionable shake— just a little too enthusiastic (he's friendly, sorry about your arm, fyodor).

gojo tips his head to the side, silver hair falling— kind of in the way of all large canines. ] Hey. You don't seem like you're new here. Aha— or, from around here.

[ a breeze sweeps in; oddly chill off the sea. it ruffles gojo's hair, and glances down, mouth quirking sidelong. oh. right.

he lets go of fyodor's hand, and steps around him. something catches his eye on the ground and he kneels to pick it up, bringing the thing up to the light of the distant campfires. a small cowrie shell— like the ones from his own world, but different. iridescent— kind of maroon. he turns it over— ah, they'd been having that competition for shell finding earlier, hadn't they? he shoots a look in fyodor's direction. strange, how those narrowed eyes have that sense of suguru about them. the snide look. some people just carry villainous airs— it's interesting. suspicious.

he steps back over, hands the shell over to fyodor. ] Get these back where you're from? That's not something I've ever seen on Earth. And— yep, I've seen everything. [ winks stupidly. can't stand this man. ] Present.

[ he's so sure he's found this place's villain— or at least, the loneliest creature this side of the bonfire. ]