Awake at last... [He muses when Hector splashes in, mildly surprised he's gone for more than washing his face. Pausing, Isaac lets his gaze slide down his body, a look no detail can escape, one that lays claim to every inch yet unexplored by his touch. Then it strays with a sudden rippling in the water: more curious fish all but begging to end up their first meal of the day.]

Burning pits, lakes of fire... [he plunges his arms in after a one, scoffing when it slips from his grasp.] ...Hell hardly seems so wretched a place.

[Glancing up at him through his lashes:] 'Warmer climes', indeed.