[If being ripped from your homeworld and thrown into an ocean, somehow under the sea, was the greeting, Alister wasn't sure he wanted to meet the welcoming committee.

The Lombax picks up his wrench, shaking the excess water out of it, before holstering the weapon on his back. He double-checks his pocket to ensure the watch was still there, before moving on to adjust his gloves.]

I would prefer to dry off before I wander into town like a drowned Terachnoid, yes. Though it's a minor inconvenience, so there's no need to race.