last laugh protocol

Inseparable. Hell, if the sea had taken Matija, he'd just have to make good on his promise-- haunting Idris for the rest of his days. His confidence is really for their benefit, more than his. There was time to look freaked out after, but the first rule of having a plan was full faith in the plan. None of his plans had failed so badly that they hadn't been able to bail themselves out, at least not yet... that's why they're still here. It's a good thing Matija wouldn't understand confirmation bias, even if it was explained to him.

The laugh, it's comforting. Leaning into the tenderness for only a moment before his unrepentant desire to be a pain in the ass wins out again. Leaning up, he tugs at Idris's ears. Holding on perhaps a bit harder than he needs to, but only for a moment. "How can you be certain it's me, then?" A wiggle in the sand, a grin crossing his face. Rakish, brilliant.

"Big scary skinwalker Matija, all ookie-spookie and shit," he teases, tail wagging in the sand. Was he having a little too much fun with it? Maybe. Did they have bigger things to be worried about? Maybe. But he's coping with keeping his shit together through that whole ordeal, and being a pest is the only coping skill available at the moment.