The fire's established now, providing welcome warmth as the late evening sun begins to go down. The slight breeze, enough to make lighting it a challenge has eased off, and Weps sits on the blanket, sipping on a beer and gazing into the flames. He smiles to himself, rememembering all the times he'd gone down to the beach in the evening over the years. Always up in the dunes a little - like now, sheltered, peaceful. Looking at the ocean had always helped him think, put things in perspective, get his priorities lined up right. It was something about the sheer scale of the ocean he'd guessed - it'd always made his troubles seem small.

Today had been a strange day. His meeting with David had unsettled him, his frank admission that he'd put Jed before anything - anyone - was hardly a surprise, but it'd still sounded strange in his head when he'd said it out loud. Like a decision had already been made. But a decision he hadn't realised he needed to make. And then he'd remembered the number on the piece of paper in his jacket pocket that he'd found the first night he'd arrived here. The number that he didn't recognise or understand but somehow knew he shouldn't throw away. So he hadn't. And today he'd called that number.

Weps sits quietly, watching the fire, lost in thought. He's thinking about the people he's met here. And thinking about some painful times ahead.