The first summer she spent here, Kat hadn't really been able to go out to the beach at all, still in her hospital-issued wheelchair and a heavy full leg cast, though she had a few nice evenings on the more accessible boardwalk. Everything has been a bit of an upwards climb since then — coming out here in the first place, shaking off a probably pointless self-consciousness enough to dress for the weather. She's never been modest about her body, but the same can't be said for the surgical scars on her knee, something she's been gradually grappling with.

Quietly, she's a little proud of the fact that she barely thinks twice about it now, wearing jean shorts and a halter top, and only a bit unsteady as she navigates across the sand. She probably won't go in the water, but she's a phone full of good music and her headphones, a book in her bag, and lunch she picked up on the way here, which it'll be worth fending off seagulls for. Weird as this place can so often be, it all feels kind of astonishingly normal in the best sort of way.

Glancing over at the person nearest her, she debates whether or not to say anything, then decides fuck it. "Hey, do you want some fries? They gave me way more than I can eat."