A rattling sound creeps closer as a black-haired man on a chair with jagged wheels rolls towards them and wordlessly hands his ticket to the guy Ember's talking to, reaching around him.

	A strangely less ornate ticket. Doesn't seem to want a cabin for himself, even though he looks well off.

	As he feels the ticket leave his hand, he rolls around Ember and towards the suspiciously smooth ramp laid between the dock and the boat, the sole barrier to pure ocean meters under it. It's wide enough for his wheelchair but it seems mildly damp due to frequent washing, and it lacks stepping rungs, which worry him even more. It would seem wheelchair-accessible for other people, but in his mind it's not even barely regular-person-accessible, and it poses a problem for his jagged wheels that are otherwise useful for traction in less dignified surfaces.

	He's overthinking it.

	Small thuds pop as he starts riding up the ramp, inching further and further through... until...

	Squeak. His left wheel slips and he spins for about a quarter circle, another thud and he is on a full stop, with the left wheel fully off the ramp and back onto the dock, and the black-haired man in the wheelchair, through his glasses, makes direct eye contact with the people behind him.