Ocean's Breath Plateau i don't want you to remember me like that

the coast is kinda chill. he's never quite been able to decide how he feels about the briny scent permeating the air or the coarse sand that sticks between his toes long after he leaves, but the scenery is nice, and the constant crash of the ocean is somewhat calming. he prefers rivers, though, and waterfalls and shit like that. no sand (well, sometimes), no salt. just water — which is perfectly alright with him.
what isn't alright with him is this god-awful climb. the rocks are sharp against his pads, and he's annoyed with the amount of focus required to avoid falling. he's certain the view will be worth it, but damn, where's the elevator? a faint sound interrupts him — like a mumble — and he almost slips. fuck! he yells, stumbling a little but quickly regaining his footing. he glances up to see a stranger, and a snort escapes him. well, that's one way to introduce himself. hey, what are you doing up here? he questions as he takes a few steps forward, tone a little more defensive than he'd meant it to be.