Hardly one to mince words, I take it? [ Not that he minds the silence. ] Tell me when you need a breather!

[ Or else they'll be at this all day... anyways, here goes! What follows is a solid hour of this monotony: Childe stabbing the ground until he hits pay dirt, then lifting the shovel to give Ellis ample room to grab the clams from their hidey-holes. Over and over again, repeatedly, really driving home the utter ridiculousness of his request. There's also a large bucket nearby— battered, missing a handle— for him to deposit them in, if he so chooses.

Either way, it won't even be half-full before Childe's shovel breaks on him, leaving him holding only the shaft. So nice of it to grant Ellis some reprieve from sand hell... ]

... Ahaha— seems that's it for today! [ Like he didn't just decimate part of the beach... ] Doing okay down there?