Otter Creek paint me as a villian

It wasn't until after The Jester had gotten his fill of exhilaration that he paid the girl any mind. Of course he knew that she'd been watching him; what kind of a predator would he be if his most important instincts failed him? The less vital skills, well, he was long since relinquished them — if it didn't save his life, The Jester figured he didn't need them — to whatever gods reigned above. He had never believed in any, but he figured Just to be safe!

Good evening, he cooed, It is a pleasure, a real, true pleasure to meet you, my dear. Still standing in the water, The Jester gave an uncoordinated bow of sorts, all the while keeping his gaze focused on that of the other. I beg of you, please forgive my attire. I wasn't prepared for a swim. Isn't it strange how things just seem to happen?