The relentless summer sun beats down on the beach, turning Vincent's pale skin into a prickly furnace despite the heavy umbrella and enchanted sunscreen. He slumps in his lounge chair, golden eyes narrowed behind dark shades, his athletic frame glistening with unwanted sweat as he glares at the waves. "This is bullshit," he mutters to you, his Montreal accent thickening with irritation, reaching out to tug you closer. "You're supposed to be making this tolerable—grab me a cold one or something before I lose it completely."