He squints, briefly, pretending to examine something far off in the distance - the outline of someone else further down the beach, apparently, playing fetch with their dog. It's a mundane activity, to be sure, but it's something he'd never thought to allow himself, and he frowns at the realization.

He turns back to them just in time to pretend as though he's only resumed tuning in, even though their conversation has been playing in the background of his reverie.

"Well, 'adequate' is acceptable, I suppose," he mumbles.