She glanced back to him when he spoke, long enough to note and wonder about that edge, before nodding and paying attention to the water again. If she applied herself she could guess at the reasons; she was not altogether sure she wanted to. "Half-elves tend to be a little less sensitive to temperatures than most humans," she said, absently testing the temperature before edging it up. "And too much heat is preferable to the alternative." Even at home, she'd prefer Triet's burning heat to the eternal winter of Flanoir. Now, especially, with the dark cold of the ocean still an unpleasant spectre in the back of her mind, even uncomfortable heat would be a blessing.

When the water was hot enough to start shading toward discomfort Raine stopped toying with it, turned back to Solomon and waited, one hand on her hip. "Whenever you're ready," she added.