Cerulean Cape you try but you can't defeat them

Whether the pallid girl believed him or not was not anything that Riptide felt concerned enough to truly fuss over. Despite her misgivings she wasn't his daughter and he didn't care. She was just a lost girl in the sea witch's mind, confused. Boldly, the girl took a step closer. It was a ghost of a thing — a small step that if he'd not been so perceptive it would have been undeniably easy for him to miss. A question was formed from her lips as she drew nearer. He drew the seaweed closer to him, his ears cupped forth, attentive, even as he turned his gaze from her for a few seconds to test how dry the seaweed was. His response to her question was simple...and in it was the truth as Riptide knew it. He was a witch and he'd granted this body by the Sea itself. “The Sea, child.” It was a zealot response, but it was the only thing that was relevant. He didn't know where the gangster came from, beyond frankly not caring. “I come from the Sea.” He turned his predatory, burning gaze to her once more, wondering what question she would think of next to inquire of him.