Duck Lake Step away from my light, I need shine.

Right. Not really a fox. The pale man from before had said as much, but at the moment Ibis was having trouble with her recall. When the ginger creature began to apologize Ibis shook her head, a little bit of water flinging off of her in the process, and she tried to dissuade any further apologies by saying—N-no, not your fault, I've always been this clumsy. It wasn't an aspect of herself she was particularly proud of; her ears slant back as she mentions it, but then she's too focused on trying to find a safe route closer to where the man is standing that she goes quiet. It doesn't take long for her to reach him although she makes herself soggy all over again in the process. There was no point in trying to dry off until she was safely planted somewhere solid anyway.

Ibis doesn't notice the drifting pale figure yet; if she sees them at all it is only the vague outline, and maybe her mind tells her not to worry, that it's probably the pale fellow from before—the one with the two-toned eyes—but again, she isn't focused at all on her surroundings. She shakes off some of the frigid water and the effect causes her coat to look spiked all over, like she's touched a light socket, and she giggles softly at the thought of how she must look in that moment. I'm so cold! She proclaims. The tone of her voice is closer to mirth, though, as if this is all a big joke and she's actually entertained by her own suffering, which is odd.