“Probably a good thing,” Will says, dumping river water onto the bank. It's cold out, so he's not sure how quickly his helmet is going to dry. It's not quite as self-sufficient as the suit, but hopefully it'll manage, before he has to put it on his head. He's starting to steam a little, as water evaporates off the exterior of the flight suit. He lets the helmet go back to resting between his shoulder blades. Maybe proximity to the warmth will help. “I suppose things get less disconcerting around here, eventually.” People dropping out of the sky, people popping out of rivers, people appearing in sealed rooms, whatever. He'll get used to it eventually. Maybe.