[Well, that's — unexpected, to say the least, and certainly not that he's complaining. He'd been holding his own the best he could manage with poise and steely confidence alone (itself not a very easy task, with nothing but a flimsy beach robe to wear), but even in the midst of trying to deter the lifeguards, Rufus had already been vaguely aware that it was a losing proposition. With no gun, no materia, no makeshift weaponry, and no backup, the only viable play was to endure as long as he could before they inevitably overpowered him.

But it seems he'd endured long enough for a rescue, at least. With a final look to the gulls groaning in the sand, just to make sure they intend to stay down, Rufus's attention shifts to the newcomer in his midst.]

Better now than a minute ago.

[He flicks a significant glance toward the musclehead nearest him, resisting the urge to nudge one that beefy torso with his foot for good measure. No sense in adding insult to injury at this point.]

Quite the advantage you have there. One on five isn't what I'd call ideal odds, but you made it look easy.