He's a man out of place, that is for certain. What anyone is doing by the edge of this damnable lake is questionable now. Anri knows what he's doing here, but what about you Red Suit? He breathes out into the cold, like his lungs are still new, cold and fluttering in his chest. He kicks back a little makes more space between the two of them, as little as it is, it's a comfort, it's control. Not a lot of control, but enough to make him feel like he has a grasp on something.

I was dead. I swear I was dead. I saw it, everything. I saw it.

There are a lot of words that want to tumble out of his mouth like lake water, near black and frigid. He feels them all jumbled in the back of his throat as he tries to make some kind of noise. It goes from terrifying because how did the man get there to embarrassing because say something, damn you. He just swallows, lifting up his soaked sleeve to wipe at his mouth and nose like it will help at all. Maybe it does, maybe it's all in his head.

"Nice suit."

That's dumb, you're dumb.

But it's the only thing he can manage as he starts to slowly get to his feet, legs shifting under him. There's a heavy weight to living now, he feels it in his bones, something that wasn't there before. There's a price to pay and he's already started accruing the debt on this loan. Ishak, Ishak, Ishak. His eyes flick over to the lake briefly. There is no sign of him. He doubts he'd see any bit of him until the spring might decide to relinquish his bloated, cold body from the ice. He looks back at the blonde man, too clean-cut.

"Blanket'd be good... Inside." Cold. Coat. You are alive.