"Funny," she said, flatly, "I could've sworn you just said that standing at the bottom of a lake." She smirked and took his wrist in her hand, looking upward as the bubble burst. The weight of the water collapsing in them was quite sufficient to crush both of them flat, were it not for the fact that Chloe had the foresight to pull Clint down and to the side. The water rushing in to fill the volume of the now rising, and numerous small air bubbles came from the sides as well as above, and On the sides the flow was rather pleasant, if slightly jarring. She swam hard, feeling the mud and sweat wash away with each stroke.<br/><br/>She surface not twenty feet from her still-upright trident, pulling Clint up onto the beach, knowing just his disorienting swimming like that was to the children of other, less water-friendly gods. She immediately dried, water running off her skin like she'd become solid glass. Her hair was instantly dry, and she could run, without the hinderance of being wet, or having wet hair, which was now pleasantly messy. She ran straight for her Trident, mind only on the sure knowledge that the Harpies had not missed their transgressing curfew, at the lake. She sincerely hoped they smelled Clint on her, in her, because she was pretty sure Harpies had a thing for devouring male heroes in front of their lovers. Or maybe that was some other creature? She could never keep that straight. She only had two categories of monster knowledge, like her categories with sex. With monsters they were, 'stab it until it dies,' or 'tricky bastards.' Harpies were in the former, so she didn't know jack shit about them, really, but still, she was pretty sure she heard the hero devouring thing somewhere.