"You're welcome," comes her automatic response, glad he doesn't take him down with her. C'mon, everyone at least knows what grazie means. It wasn't like the language was new for her, not when she'd spent countless of hours going over Desmond's animus logs under the Ezio archives.

Lucy ignores the fact that pulling him up and out of the water lands her with some of it soaking through her own scrubs. She reaches for the discarded peacoat to drape around over his shoulders, anything to keep him warm.

"We need to move you out of the cold. My place isn't far. Do you think you can walk?" It's not dawned on her yet who this is.