[Now that Elsword has managed to drag Wolfwood out of the danger zone that is the pool, he sort of sits there half-upright on the tile in a soggy heap, blessedly not freezing, but not exactly in good shape either. If he tries to leave this wet he may just freeze to the ground, honestly.
He blinks blearily (his sunglasses are also missing, having joined the empty bottle in the pool) up at the ceiling, patting the floor for a bottle that isn't there.]
merry crimesmes have a drowned priest
He blinks blearily (his sunglasses are also missing, having joined the empty bottle in the pool) up at the ceiling, patting the floor for a bottle that isn't there.]
...s'rainin'. Fuckin' deep puddles.