[If it works it works, right? Sometimes the best way out is just through. It's a messy exit, though. The door blows out beneath him, and he braces himself to duck and roll when he hits the pavement. And there's a moment in the disorienting crash before he remembers to tense up when it twigs that someone's gone and grabbed onto him. (Some long-rusted reflex, holdover from back when he did have someone there to catch him.)

All in all, not his finest moment.

He does seem...alright, all things considered. Does need a second to shake his head and clear his lungs, but otherwise he's up and moving and not drowned, so really that's good enough. Unlike the rest of him, his tone manages to be remarkably dry. (American, by way of Jersey, by way of Gotham. There's a little Bowery bent to it that he doesn't bother trying to soften.)]

Yeah, I think I've had enough playing in the puddles for one day.

[Now that he can hear her, she doesn't sound at all like he'd expected. But that's egg on his face, really, for assuming. He braces back against the pillar before levering himself to his feet. Even has the good grace to offer her a hand, should she need it. It is kind of his fault she ended up in the drink at all.

Still, he's not in as big a rush. Not just yet. Far as he knows, the worst of it is behind them, and his sense of relative self preservation has always been a little skewed, he'll to admit that. He did come here for a reason. So—]

Ought to be a couple crates that washed out with me. Could be salvagable.

[The meds.  Azithromycin, doxycycline, amoxicillin.  Antibiotics.  Hot commodity in a place like this. But behind them, past them, the last water retreats oddly. Rises.]