He seemed disconcerted by the situation - more than she was, at any rate. She suspected that whatever he did in his day-to-day career, he was more reliant on a wand than she. Her power was primarily in the pen, and she had never had a great deal of interest in the frivolous sort of spells they taught girls of her station. She should have had it with her today, though, if only to save this fellow from his chivalry.

“Oh, I left my things with a maid of mine,” Porphyria declared finally, “although that was somewhere... further back down the bank than this.” She squinted along the lakeside, trying to remember which side she had set off from originally and how far it was from where Arven Fisk had floated her in. She’d have dumped her things without a guard to watch over them if she hadn’t learned from experience to expect thieves; while she wasn’t ever keen to have supervision (she was old enough to take care of herself by now - obviously, she had been capable of that the moment she’d left Hogwarts), Sinead hadn’t minded having a half-day off to spend sedentary by the lake, leafing through a book of her own. Porphyria didn’t approve of her choice of novel, but needs must.

“That way, I think,” Phyri directed with a wave of her arm, holding her shoes in her other hand, wondering whether she could be bothered to put them on again or not. After all, poor Mr. Fisk might dreadfully offended by her feet. She could come back along to pick up the dying boat with her wand before she headed home or the man might charm it to follow along the shore like a duckling if he pleased. As for walking her, well. “You can come if you like,” she added indifferently, for the first time wondering what business he had been on before noticing her sinking vessel. “Unless you were wandering a certain way before?”

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