Oh by the bloody Maker's Bollocks. James had been gathering firewood for the campfires, considering a great number of them had been dunked into the water or had to fight their way through the creatures on the shore. He expected the cries of the injured, the muttering of worry around the others, to which he applied a calm and practical note when he talked to everyone else.

He did Not. Count on half-naked Avaar women. And as a gentleman, he abruptly turned around to face the ocean and not the woman without ... proper ... garments covering at least some of her ... top parts.

"I. Ah. Aren't you cold? And damp? But mostly cold?"