[ A very small part of him wants to find humor – the kind tinged with a sort of wild hysteria – in Jonas's reassurance of his own future agony. Instead he's breathing out a rough exhale before he rolls to the side to grasp at the bow's railing, dragging himself up onto his feet before his bones decide they're better off at rest.

Paling fingers tug only haphazardly at the rope hanging low on his hips, eyes cast down to the fresh iceberg below still wreathed in visible clouds of frigid air that are only stirred into a greater frenzy by the tempest around them. It'll be cold, achingly so, but...

His attention snaps back to Jonas when the sound of wood splintering rattles his skull and in a heartbeat he's moving, arm hovering flat against a pair of broad shoulders and across the teen's collar as he slides next to him with a rough but cautious push back. The instinct to protect is automatic, and apologized for only with a brief glance of acknowledgement before his arm's quickly lowered. Jonas, of course, is right, and that's where their focus should be. ]

Ahh... I... Sure, I have more magic, but we're gonna' be better off if I lower you down first. I can get down there no problem, so if you can't you're gonna' need some help. [ A hand reaches behind his back to lessen the shock of watching another spell materialize, brought back around between them now holding a second flask – but this one glows red and emanates heat. ]

Here. Hold this for a minute; it might help you dry off before we jump down. You hit that ice wet and it'll be ten times worse.