It takes her a second to process that, to decide if he's teasing her or not, but then she ducks her head to hide a smile. She doesn't know if she's ever experienced cheek like that, but she kind of likes it.
"I don't know why you wouldn't," she says, stepping away once he's let go of her, heading for the steps into the pool. "Unless you can't, I suppose. I'm still not sure if I can, but there's only one way to find out."
"You know, I don't remember doing it, but I'm sure I can," he tells her in turn, looking at her as she step towards the pool. He feels a little giddy looking at her, and he grins to see how sure her steps are.
"How about I get in with you, and I save you if you can't?"
The first step down takes her in up to her calves, the next one to her knees, but she skips the last all together and just jumps down, biting her lip to keep from shouting at how cold the water is as it races up to her waist. It's lovely, honestly, and she moves her hands over the surface with a kind of wonder to the gesture.
But it doesn't show on her face when she turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised up. "How am I supposed to trust that you can save me if you can't remember if you know how?"
Just because he's sure, that doesn't make it true.
"Some things are felt in the bones, eh?" He gives her a little wink, but obliges her. She's in what practically amounts to underwear, so he strips down to his boxers as well.
He doesn't use the steps. He stands on the edge of the pool, a few feet away from where she's floating, and then dives fluidly in.
She might be in what's essentially underwear, but it's at least made to be wet, to not be see-through, but his boxers can't exactly claim the same thing.
The dive is impressive, though, and when he surfaces she walks closer to him, fighting the pull of the water.
"How did you know to do that? You looked like you had a hundred times before."
She moves a little closer to him, pitches her voice a little lower like she wants to tell him a secret even though there's no one else in the room.
"I think I might be a warrior of some sort," she tells him. "I had a long metal pole on my back and all these weapons tucked into secret places in my room."
Which was also metal, and sort of beeped a lot. It was very odd.
He's leading her slowly further into the water, so that she'll have to stand on her toes soon or start treading water.
"I have a few scars," he says, and he briefly turns around to show her the scar on his back, then points at the one above the tattoo on his chest. "Think I might've gotten in a bit of trouble, before."
She does as well, but the biggest scars are on her back, long and new, and she hasn't seen them yet. She hasn't exactly had a reason to look herself over in a mirror.
"Maybe you were terribly dastardly in your youth and you turned it around to become a swimmer," she guesses, instinctively following him until the water comes up to just under her breasts. She stops then, suddenly anxious, and goes no farther. She'll just joke with him from there.
She looks at his hand for a few long moments, unsure about this, about whether or not she really belongs in water that deep, but what's the worst that could happen?
Finally, when it's probably been such a long wait he might think she's not going to, she reaches out to put her hand in his.
He takes her other hand as well, smiling encouragingly at her, and pulls her in. His arms are strong and steady, and she can easily hold on to him if she feels overwhelmed.
"It's easy," he reassures her. "You just kick at the water to stay up. If you're a warrior, you'll know how to kick, right?"
This time the look she gives him suggests she's just as likely to kick him in the face if he keeps talking to her like that, but as much as it's annoying to hear something so close to patronizing there's no ignoring the fact that his voice, gentle and low and deep, is soothing enough to give her the courage to move into deeper water.
She can see the bottom, too, and it shouldn't be something to worry about. It's clear liquid, she shouldn't worry at all.
And yet...
He pulls her out farther, until the water comes up to her shoulders and she has to stand on the very tips of her toes, but she doesn't try kicking her feet yet. It sounded counter productive when she needed them to stand on, after all. She's got the tips of her toes, her grip on his hands, and that's enough for her.
"That's a silly question," he snorts, as he starts stepping backwards himself-- and now he has to start treading water. He's got strong legs, and he does fine at that, kicking and staying up, but it makes his hands bob and less stable for her to hold on to.
It's probably better if she comes into the deep end with him. "I don't remember. But I think so."
She'd asked the question but hardly hears the answers, not when his hands become less steady, pull her forward before she's ready, and her mouth opens to gasp just as her head dips under the water.
She doesn't panic, to her credit, but when she comes back up she grabs for him, any part of him more solid than his hands, while she coughs the water back out.
The moment she goes under he shifts to put his hands underneath her armpits, hauling her back up and pulling her closer to him. He urges her to put her hands on his shoulders, hushing her gently.
"That's alright-- it's just water, love, eh? Hold on to me, kick your feet a little."
One hand holds his shoulder but the other goes around the back of his neck, holding herself in the circle of his arms while she fights to catch her breath again.
"I'm alright," she says once she feels like she can, and she does make some attempt to kick her feet. Once she sees that does make her feel more supported she does it in earnest, keeping them both afloat instead of more likely to pull him under with her.
"There we go," he says, and he smiles at her. "It's easy like this. Try letting go of me a little more," he instructs, and not because he'd like her to let go but because it'll help with the swimming.
She doesn't, at first. She takes a second to wipe the little wisps of hair that got stuck down to her face away, to wipe the water from her eyes, to be sure she can breathe properly.
And she doesn't know why she trusts him to keep her safe while she collects herself, but she does. That faith is well placed, too, because she doesn't dip back down for a second, stays easily supported until she's ready to let him go.
When her hands come away from him her instinct is to sweep them back to keep her balance and when that works, she figures out how to move her arms to tread water like it's something she's done before.
"Alright," he says, and then counts down three, two, one--
He helps her flip over and it's easy, her light body in the water just rolling over onto her stomach. He holds her like that, steady, making sure her chest and hips stay even, her chin above the water.
"Now kick your feet again, and move your arms in a circle like you did before."
She should probably be a little more concerned about a strange man putting his hands all over her, touching her bare skin in such intimate places, and she should be more concerned that she's letting him, but there's a natural desire to learn this, to know everything. It's coloring her choices, honestly.
It's a little awkward at first, a few unsure kicks when she doesn't feel properly balanced, when there's an unavoidable spike of fear at having her face so close to the water with her feet not even touching, but she forces her body to work with her, follow his instructions. It only takes a few tries before her jerky movements become graceful, she finds the rhythm to this.
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"I don't know why you wouldn't," she says, stepping away once he's let go of her, heading for the steps into the pool. "Unless you can't, I suppose. I'm still not sure if I can, but there's only one way to find out."
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"How about I get in with you, and I save you if you can't?"
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But it doesn't show on her face when she turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised up. "How am I supposed to trust that you can save me if you can't remember if you know how?"
Just because he's sure, that doesn't make it true.
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He doesn't use the steps. He stands on the edge of the pool, a few feet away from where she's floating, and then dives fluidly in.
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The dive is impressive, though, and when he surfaces she walks closer to him, fighting the pull of the water.
"How did you know to do that? You looked like you had a hundred times before."
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"Muscle memory, all that. Right? I might've been a swimmer."
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Maybe he hasn't even found it yet, or maybe he's entirely wrong with his guess, but it's fun to try to figure it out.
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Alright, so he thinks he might be married, but he hasn't seen the woman from the pictures and he's left his wedding ring in his cabin.
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"I think I might be a warrior of some sort," she tells him. "I had a long metal pole on my back and all these weapons tucked into secret places in my room."
Which was also metal, and sort of beeped a lot. It was very odd.
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"I have a few scars," he says, and he briefly turns around to show her the scar on his back, then points at the one above the tattoo on his chest. "Think I might've gotten in a bit of trouble, before."
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"Maybe you were terribly dastardly in your youth and you turned it around to become a swimmer," she guesses, instinctively following him until the water comes up to just under her breasts. She stops then, suddenly anxious, and goes no farther. She'll just joke with him from there.
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"I like that. Maybe I was. Would you let a dastardly man lead you further into the water, my lady?"
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Finally, when it's probably been such a long wait he might think she's not going to, she reaches out to put her hand in his.
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"It's easy," he reassures her. "You just kick at the water to stay up. If you're a warrior, you'll know how to kick, right?"
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She can see the bottom, too, and it shouldn't be something to worry about. It's clear liquid, she shouldn't worry at all.
And yet...
He pulls her out farther, until the water comes up to her shoulders and she has to stand on the very tips of her toes, but she doesn't try kicking her feet yet. It sounded counter productive when she needed them to stand on, after all. She's got the tips of her toes, her grip on his hands, and that's enough for her.
"Have you done this before?"
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It's probably better if she comes into the deep end with him. "I don't remember. But I think so."
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She doesn't panic, to her credit, but when she comes back up she grabs for him, any part of him more solid than his hands, while she coughs the water back out.
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"That's alright-- it's just water, love, eh? Hold on to me, kick your feet a little."
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"I'm alright," she says once she feels like she can, and she does make some attempt to kick her feet. Once she sees that does make her feel more supported she does it in earnest, keeping them both afloat instead of more likely to pull him under with her.
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And she doesn't know why she trusts him to keep her safe while she collects herself, but she does. That faith is well placed, too, because she doesn't dip back down for a second, stays easily supported until she's ready to let him go.
When her hands come away from him her instinct is to sweep them back to keep her balance and when that works, she figures out how to move her arms to tread water like it's something she's done before.
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"I'm going to put me hand on your stomach now," he warns, "and we're gonna tip you over so that you're more horizontal. Ready?"
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She'll never learn otherwise. It turns out she's better at that when her options are to adapt or die.
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He helps her flip over and it's easy, her light body in the water just rolling over onto her stomach. He holds her like that, steady, making sure her chest and hips stay even, her chin above the water.
"Now kick your feet again, and move your arms in a circle like you did before."
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It's a little awkward at first, a few unsure kicks when she doesn't feel properly balanced, when there's an unavoidable spike of fear at having her face so close to the water with her feet not even touching, but she forces her body to work with her, follow his instructions. It only takes a few tries before her jerky movements become graceful, she finds the rhythm to this.
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