It takes him a while to catch the oxygen he'd been missing, his eyes adjusting to the light overhead, his body tingling with adrenaline and fear. He can feel his hands and fingers trembling as he lifts to press his palm against his chest, coughing and sputtering and expelling whatever might've found its way into his lungs. He turns on his side, retching a couple of times, before flopping onto his back again, eyes shut, head throbbing.

Eyes still closed, he reaches out one of his hands, the one closest to Liv, and flails a little to try and reach her.

"At least you don't hate me enough to let me become a merman," he mumbles, voice rasp and hoarse. "There goes my chance for a big, longing musical number about the humans on shore."