Oh look, Dean, here's one of said scantily-clad chicks... although she might not really be paying attention to you. "Her style is new but the face is the same as it was so long ago, but from her eyes, a different smile like that of one who knows..." she sings quietly as she sketches in a notebook perched precariously on her knees.

Hey, the rock was the closest thing to shade nearby, and Wyn is cursed with palest-of-the-pale Irish skin.