Cooper, meanwhile, had taken a detour to a farther corner of the shop. The beaches as far as the eye could see from the Place's clifftop perch were covered with bronze bodies. Surely places like this had to sell ... ah, there it was. He hovered a hand over the bottles and glanced back at Sarah. She was fair, almost pale. Definitely the high end. He sniffed a couple of SPF 45 sunscreens experimentally, smiled at the last. It was enough like Sarah's scent that she probably wouldn't mind it.<br/><br/>He tucked the bottle under his arm and made a stop at a small glass-fronted cooler to pick out a bottle of fruit juice before joining Sarah at the freezer.<br/><br/>"Classic," he said, and nodded. "For me it's ... the heck?" From a back corner of the case he retrieved a paper-wrapped cone. "Cinnamon? Well, when in Rome, right? Or Ibiza, either."<br/><br/>Coop set his small collection of items on the counter beside the cash register and fished a nigh-origami crumple of euros from his pocket. "Uh ... Éstos, y el helado que eligió mi amiga?" For a moment he wasn't certain whether he had asked to pay for the ice cream that Sarah had picked, or the ice cream that had picked Sarah. He shrugged; dude must get enough gibberish from tourists that he would know what he meant. He turned back to Sarah.<br/><br/>"Anything else you need?"