He feels suddenly washed overboard, into a cool fresh sea, sunlit and sweet, buoying him back to the surface in a rush and the feeling of being smashed through a pane of glass that turns out to be water, shattering in a brilliant burst and a rising wind.

And Marian, kneeling in front of him, now eye to eye, blinking wide, startled eyes, face pale aside from the pink starting to fill in her cheeks. Shocked, rather than triumphant. As if his disenchantment had opened up the ground beneath her, or --

A sudden flurry of cloth pushes between them; ivory hat and tan duster that fills his hands and is shoved past them, covering skin laid bare and -- and --




He isn't wholly certain it mightn't be preferable if the blasted theory hadn't worked and he'd remained the frog.




Marian is looking away, long past startled, well into the utter loss of lacking words or action, but Kate has, thankfully, gained her sense back well enough to help him cover himself, a deep blush heating his face and the frog, now released, taking up residence in his throat, forcing him to clear it three full times before trusting any words to his voice.

"Thank you," he says, with as much grace as he can muster, despite the sun on his naked shoulders and the duster clenched firmly in front of him. "Your -- aid is much appreciated, Marian." His voice does something odd on her name, and he has to look away from her, a little desperately, searching out Kate, who at least is doing more than staring at him.

"Kate. That was..." A slight pause, tone as even and calm as he can make it . "Quick thinking."