Darren upturned his face and gasped for breath when he broke the surface of the water. He shook the excess from his hair and dragged a palm over his face. Green eyes fluttered as he looked toward the shore he was trudging toward, one slow step at a time through the waves that crashed and receded at a gentle pace.

There were no sandals or even a towel waiting for him on the hot sand. He exited the surf foaming at his ankles and gave his body one more shake before he continued up the beach. The waning afternoon sun beat down on his already significantly tan shoulders. He didn't even bother with sun creams or tonics anymore.

It wasn't until the last few feet of dry sand before his feet started to burn. Rather than whipping out his wand for so little a thing, Darren did a little jig until he was in the shade of the trees at the back of the house--well, what the locals called a home at least. It really was no more than a wooden shack among wooden shacks.

But this one at least had it's perks.

Pausing on the back stoop, he finally pulled his wand from where it was strapped to his thigh and begrudgingly went about siphoning all the water off his body. He kicked his feet clean on an old mat until he deemed himself fit for entry to the home--it belonged to a wizarding couple who had settled on the beach after their children had all moved on. Darren had met them by chance not long after Lydia had gone.

Contrary to its humble exterior, Darren opened the back door and stepped into a relatively spacious multi-roomed home. The air in the home was cooler than outdoors but not uncomfortably so--comfort was actually the point to the place.

The Irishman swaggered his way to the laundry to find himself a shirt. Four distinct but non-shrill tones echoed through the home--someone had knocked on the front door. The man of the house, Carlos, pulled himself away from his one-man game of wizard chess in the kitchen. The average-looking aging man pushed back the sleeves on his too-large yellow robes and ambled toward the door. Everyone seemed to move at a sloth-like pace in this country.

Darren finally found a shirt that didn't smell if body odor or fish and pulled it on. He continued to scrounge for pants as he buttoned himself. He heard Carlos's heavy foot falls retreat to the front of the house before the man quipped an informal "¿Qué tal?" at whoever was at the door.

The younger wizard frowned at the basket he had been refiling through and brought out his wand. "Accio trousers," Darren muttered.