[Lenka's passing by at some point, because eventually he has to make his slow, reluctant way back to the campfire, and stops to watch in silence.

Normally, this is what he'd resort to himself, but his grip isn't steady nor secure enough tonight to do any good for anyone. He'd probably send the Arc flying halfway across the beach or have to go diving for it, and he has neither the energy nor the capacity for slapstick at this time. Watching someone else train is a little soothing, though. It's better than staring into the lake or the fire. Repetitive motion. Less shadows crawling about the prickles of Tier 1.]