Mystic wasn't trying to wake too soon. He was just that strong willed and stubborn headed. He felt more like a fish outta water now than he had before. Drying up like a sea sponge put on land. He felt the water so close. He didn't need to drink slowly. He just needed to drink it. He starts to drink the water at whatever speed she was pouring it. It was a life saver. It tasted so good but the cup got empty fast. He tries to move. "M...or...e...." He says in a begging tone. He needed it. His lips had gone from cracked to soft smooth skin again. He opens his eyes but they lulled close again. Too weak to even do that. She wouldn't know that he needed the water. How was she to know the man in the strange object he had been placed upon (the bed) was really one of the sea folk? He would continue drinking the water until the entire pitcher was gone. Only the bearer of the water would know just how many that was. His eyes opened again. A beautiful sea water colored set of eyes looked at her. The color of his skin was coming back. His features less pale and clammy.