Stavanger Bay life is like a box of chocolates

Aesop snorted at the retort, glad to see that his foul mouth had less of an effect this time around. It did seem the lesser of evils in comparison to everything else Charon had had to deal with that day. "Got me there," he admitted, before breaking out into a grin at the addition.

"Atta boy, let it out. Ain't no use bottlin' that shit up. Our friend back there was pretty damn rude, but I think he just has some growin' up to do. We all do," Aesop admitted. At this point it'd be hypocritical of him to exclude his own shortcomings, as the previous encounter had proven. Even at his age, he had so much to learn.

His grin lessened, but grew in sincerity. "Charon," he repeated, as was his custom, "glad to put a name t'the face. Aesop's the name." Now he wasn't so sure what to do. Ignoring the obvious path seemed to be the best choice, because Charon no doubt did not want to talk about what had occurred back at the beach (Aesop knew that he wouldn't want to.) Then it came to him. "You said you can't swim, right?"