βNot specifically, no.β
Namorβs voice is soft, before she spots a shell and picks it up to show off to Tony proudly.
βThey are just very important where I come from. So I like to have a lot of them around.β
You should join me. Surface dwellers need more time on the beach.
(She gestures for Tony to crouch next to her, fingers carefully pushing sand aside as she searches.)
A quiet hum sounds, her fingers brushing over the unfinished painting and leaving trails of greys and blues in their wake.
The sound of encroaching footsteps has Namor pausing, head cocked and eyes darting to glance at the reader.
βHave you come to watch me paint?β