[ His nerves are still on edge, and Fuuta gives a startled squeak when Yor first stomps forth from the bungalow's entrance, flinching back a little. It's not until he sees her at the edge of his field of vision putting on the hoodie, and he processes what she's saying, that he finally lowers his hands from where they're raised in a meager attempt to protect himself. ]

Yeah, well ... just don't do it again. That could've been real bad, y'know.

[ There's the scuff of sand when he eases back another half-step before awkwardly getting to his feet, slapping sand off his swim trunks and brushing it off his legs. It admittedly feels weird being without his hoodie; his T-shirt's plastered to his body, damp with sweat, and it leaves him feeling weirdly exposed. Fuuta tries not to think about it as he regards Yor. ]

You just woke up here, huh. [ Pause. ] You should probably, uh, read the whole message they sent you. It has some important information.

[ Read: 'I really don't wanna have to explain it to you in my own words.' ]