[ Glaring in frustration doesn't accomplish much so he tries to think sensibly, tries to find some reason, tries to ... be like his friends. He takes stock of the situation with a deep breath; neither of them are armed, which is the most important thing, and the Mollymauk illusion is insisting it's real instead of attacking which is a damn relief considering the damage it could be doing, even without blades.

Fjord rubs his face and takes another deep breath, shakily letting it out. ]

This isn't real. I should go back — go back into the sea, it'll be fine. I'll wake up vomiting salt-water again but it'll be fine.