He's convinced, no matter how many times she does something like that, he's not going to get used to it, but at least this time he doesn't jump. Instead, he looks around at all the things she'd summoned, a few carving tools, buckets...

"Yeah, I think so. Prepare to be mildly impressed." When he was younger, before his father had sunken into a pit of self-loathing so deep he couldn't pull himself out of it anymore, they used to go to the beaches of Lake Michigan on holiday over summer. Jagger had never had friends, really, everyone had thought him to be weird, but he and his father had made do. Sandcastles were a way for them to bond without needing to actually talk.

He moved closer to the water, where the sand was wetter, and took a small spade, filling a pail with sand. "You want to help or watch?"