Did he need a hand? The same hand she'd just used to pop her eye back in? He didn't particularly want to touch it (nevermind that he'd just picked up that same eye a moment earlier and nevermind that he'd likely touched far slimier and worse things throughout the course of his adventurous life; he was allowed to be squeamish about the things he liked and apparently this was one of those things).

"No, ah... no, thank you," he said, making an effort to sit and straighten himself out on his own, just to prove that he didn't need her assistance. Now if only he could get rid of the urge to stare at her eye. It couldn't possibly look normal, he thought, but he didn't want to be rude by just gawking at it.

And he did, in fact, have a boat to right and several other young women — paying customers, in this case — to see to.

"Ah — hang on, let me go see about getting the boat righted," he said, taking the opportunity to scurry away and put the idea of her manhandling a loose eyeball back into her socket out of his mind.