He laughs once, quietly, and smiles warmly at Zivia with the comment. He does not say the same for himself.

With Zivia’s help he hops over the boat’s edge, and settles onto one of the benches. Being smaller than his usual self as a fox-person, it’s a little awkward for him to handle the oar, but it’s manageable. This much he can be asked to do.

It’s foggy out here over the ocean, but it’s quiet. And it isn’t quite dark anymore; just starting to creep into the sky is a blue lightness.