Without the upper body strength to hoist himself up, Bene requires the help of the ferryman to drag him up by one skinny arm and deposit him, shivering, on the deck, where he grips his arms and gives Athessa a wounded, pitiful look.
"It's not funny," he mumbles, but not loudly enough to be admonishing her directly. He's cold.
"It is, though!" She wheezes, the sole of her sandal slipping on the wet deck and sending her thudding onto her bottom. It doesn't do much to cease her giggles.
He scowls at Athessa, but now that she's down here too and laughing as hard as she is, it's a bit difficult not to smile at least a little. Self-consciously, he pushes his hair back out of his face and returns to shivering, his previously perfectly warm jacket now nothing but a contributor to the damp cold.
"You're an arsehole," he mutters, the curve of his lip suggesting, okay, maybe it's a little funny.
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"It's not funny," he mumbles, but not loudly enough to be admonishing her directly. He's cold.
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"Y-Your h-h-hahaha-hair!"
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Self-consciously, he pushes his hair back out of his face and returns to shivering, his previously perfectly warm jacket now nothing but a contributor to the damp cold.
"You're an arsehole," he mutters, the curve of his lip suggesting, okay, maybe it's a little funny.
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