Kira can imagine his own impression--not counting the one of his ass in the snow--all brittle limbed and staring down the length of the river like he really could take it to its end. He knows that he could, given motivation. He'd climbed a series of rooftops and clutter halfway to the East End--but he hadn't started that trip after a trip through time and space, doused in freezing water and on the tail end of half-ass parkour to the East End.

He turns back, not staring at the man but keeping him in his range of attention. When he scrubs a hand up over the hair still growing out at the back of his head, it's cold skin to cold skin, and a chill creeping into his collar. "Yeah, I didn't really have time last night to get an idea of the place. I guess we're lucky we don't have to crawl out of that," he says, nodding at the river.