[The quality of the stream is something Leia should have probably considered, though things seem to be working out in her favor. She rises and breaks the surface with him, noting the weight of his hands on her shoulders; and similarly, she'll toss her own hair out of her face, sucking in a breath. Now that her hair is down and out completely, she has to tug some of it out of her mouth. Unruly and wet though it may look, she runs a hand through it.

Who knows where her hair tie went.]

It feels great.

[Beneath the yellow overcoat of hers, which remains abandoned on the shore, what's left is a plain white button-down that looks rather formal. On top of that, there's a black vest that makes her look like a waitress or bartender. She looks down upon feeling their weight, though her gaze settles on the water.]

I wish we could put this stream to good use, but . . . we could at least stay nearby. [Camp out for a while, though no more fires will be necessary, thanks. Some of the guilt returns in her voice as it tapers off.] Maybe monitor things from a distance, until . . . you know.

[Until it's safer. Until something changes.]

That might be best.