A big, theatrical, put-upon sigh-- why can't things just be easy, Clarisse-- then, "fine."

He steps toward a suitable chunk of debris and removes his tunic to fold it neatly, kicking off his shoes to then place them rigidly beside it. The trousers stay on, because leave it to him not to wear appropriate swimwear to his own beach party.

"Go on then," he says, coming back with a little glint in his eye, like he's trying not to laugh, "or do you want me to push you?"