Getting sick is about the least of Sean's concerns right now, and he doesn't have it in him to answer her as he pushes forward, fighting for every step as the water weighs down his jeans, tries to drag him back. It's up around his thighs by the time he walks into the motorcycle, barely feeling it past the cold. He has to bend over to reach under the surface and haul it back up just to make it visible again, further soaking himself in the process, but it doesn't matter. He's a million miles away from his body the instant he can see it for himself, polished chrome and custom grips, all the things Maeve never let him live down after she lost it saving his skin. He knows that he should start moving back to shore before he loses all the feeling in his limbs, but he's caught in place, trying to wrap his mind around this and whatever it is he's supposed to do now.