[Saxsice nods emphatically, sipping at the umbrella-and-fruit-less drink and letting out a mournful sigh.] Ain't nothin' like a little orange wedge, am I right? Maybe wherever we end up next'll have more fun drinks.

[Then she snorts, trying (and failing) to coax her curls back into the bun. Rather than cooperating, even more tumble loose.] You're sweet. I can't do nothin' with it, specially in island humidty, y'know? I should just let it do what it wants.

[Saxsice has plenty to say about sand and the way it interferes with plenty of fun beachy activities, but the comment about "my version of the world" catches her attention. She sits up straighter, eyes bright.] Your version, huh? You from the future or...maybe past? [She pauses, then shakes her head.] Nah, you didn't get the vapors or whatever at hearin' I live alone and own my business. Definitely not the past.