There is a thud as an androgynous form falls out of one of the boats and lands face-down on the deck. It appears to be wearing backed-out goggles, rumpled bits of several different military uniforms (some of which no longer exist), and... a traffic cone on its head. "...ow." Ephiral dusts herself off and laboriously finds her feet, wincing at each motion. After what seems like an eternity, he sheepishly pulls the traffic cone off, revealing a wild, disheveled red mane and a pair of blacked-out goggles, and stands at some semblance of attention. "That'd be me, Cap'n. I think. Last night is kinda hazy."