Ashton wished he could have an outlook on life like that. He wishes that he could look at the world with such blatant optimism. Most of the time, he was the same way. He smiled at strangers, even those that preferred to communicate by yelling. He offered to help any in need. But perhaps what his downfall could be described as was his inability to just leave people alone. Ashton loved helping, even if they didn't need it.

All of this had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. He could remember a time where he had passed a stranger sitting on the curb. The hour had been late and he had been on his way home from a night surf. The man was clearly drunk and based on where he was sitting, he had just been kicked out of the bar in sat in front of.

Ashton, being the kind and gentle soul that he was, offered to help the man. He should have been more cautious of the man's over enthusiasm, but he had trusted him. He started to help him to stand so he could call him a cab, but the man pushed him back against the wall. He then began to punch him repeatedly, over and over as Ashton began to lose consciousness. And when he came to, his wallet and surfboard had been stolen. Ashton never saw him again, but he hoped he had used Ashton's money for something good.

Ashton, for as nice as he is, has been taken advantage of more times than he could count. And yet, he continued to help those in need. While his trusting heart brings him so many friends, it also puts him at tremendous risk.

His thoughts return to the young woman standing beside him. Once again, he trusts her, though he has no basis to. He listens to her talk of his dress and he can't help but chuckle. "I feel I might be too under-dressed for even 'Casual Day'." Swim trunks and flip flops were certainly not most people's dress of choice for Casual Day. Most wore jeans and a polo or jeans and a dress shirt. He wouldn't be caught dead in swim trunks and a tight muscle shirt for anything dealing with business. Perhaps that was just what he had been taught as a child.

His family had been very concerned with appearances. Perhaps that was why him being born were had been such shocking and wholly unacceptable. It was what eventually alienated him from his family. That was not a part of his past that he liked talking about because it was simply far too painful. Losing his family had hurt more than the beating he had received from the drunk man outside the bar.

He gave her his name, pleased when she takes his hand and accepts the formal handshake. Her comment had him smiling, blushing even. "Thank you ma'am. I hear that a lot about my accent." To him, his accent was just how he learned to talk. Where he grew up, everyone's accent was thick and no one cared. It was simply the norm. But here in Sacrosanct, it seemed to be something that was a rare find. Even know, it sometimes made him uncomfortable with how many people loved his accent. It drew too much attention. There were days when he wished it wasn't quite so thick, but then again, God had done that for a reason...at least that's what he told himself. If he wasn't meant to use this accent to help people, then he wouldn't have been given it.

She admits that this little shop is also her first time here. Seems like a great day for them both to discover this small little coffee shop tucked away from the main drag. Perhaps there was a reason they were bough brought here, a reason neither of them understood just yet.

She says that she loves the beach, that it's so peaceful out on the sand watching the waves. He smiles. He knows that feeling. "My favorite is when I'm out on my board, waiting for the next wave. There's a sense of calmness and clarity." It was where he did most of his thinking. So many revelations had come there as he waited for the next wave.

Ren mentions that she's tried surfing once, but that it wasn't very successful for her. He nods his head in understanding. "I was terrible when I first started. Now I teach people to surf." He remembered falling one time after another and nearly drowning. It was a learning curve, for sure. She asks how long he's been surfing and he smiled. "Since I was a teenager...but I lived near the beach so I was practically raised in the water." His mother had affectionately called him Flipper because of his love and his need to always be wet. It was surprising that his were animal was not a marine mammal of any kind.

He can see that their orders are both coming up, almost at the same time. He reaches for his own before he turns to look at her. "Would you like to enjoy this with me before we part our separate ways?" He hopes she agrees. He motions to a free booth right by the window. It's quiet and in the corner, the perfect place to foster further conversation.