Something lights on fire behind her, but Gwenaëlle — already running — sort of assumes it was meant to. Probably not something she needs to worry about, especially when she is rushing the water at speed. It's not as if she doesn't know it's going to be cold. This is hardly the first time she's got in this water, specifically, and it's never been warm, but at this hour and in this moderate weather,

she is almost certain her nipples have instantly become lethal weapons. She has goosebumps places she didn't realise have hair. There's a little jump, so her feet and her knees hit the water first, and then about seven different parts of her body clench without her say so as it comes to hip-height, and she laughs, reaching for Abby's elbow.

“What the fuck!” is an incoherent question, not requiring an answer.