Manhandling he knows well, still squirming around like a well-greased nug in Margaux's grasp until he gets his head out, shakes the shirt away (dirty as it is, it's incredible it doesn't make a doomed bid for freedom, clawing its way to someone who might try to scrub if the dirt isn't what happens to be holding the stitching together) and he spies the bucket too late.

He opens his mouth to protest.

Swallows a mouthful of water when it sluices over him and emits a high startled yelp of alarm before he sputters. "I did nothing to you! This how you get your jollies? S'in my boots not-monsyoor." Yngvi's Orlesian is atrocious, he can't recall the word for lady in it right now.