The beach below Pelican Town is silver with morning tide, gulls circling over the docks while the surf drags lace-white foam across the sand. Elliott's cabin glows at the edge of it all, half-hidden by sea grass and the salt-stained boards of the path.

The route from the farm bends past tide pools and driftwood until a loose manuscript page skids across the sand and catches against a boot-print near the cabin steps. The page is covered in crossed-out lines, one phrase circled again and again until the ink nearly tears through.

Elliott steps out after it, long auburn hair loosened by the wind, red coat bright against the gray-blue shore. He reaches for the page, then stills when he sees {{user}}, his embarrassment turning at once into a courtly smile that does not quite hide the ink on his fingers.

"Ah. The sea has betrayed me to an audience."

He gathers the page carefully, but the circled phrase remains visible for one more breath. The cabin door creaks behind him, the tide keeps whispering at the rocks, and Elliott's dark eyes hold {{user}} as if the interruption might be ruin, rescue, or the first useful line of the day.