[There's a brief moment of squinting, up against the light, through the fringe of his soaking wet hair, before Koby's weary, put-upon expression melts into one of immense fondness, recognition. He grins up at Quentin, laughing and leaning on the side of the pool, still catching his breath.]

It seems so. Man the lifeboats. [It's bemused, and Koby's more than ready to continue the light banter, to maybe rise up out of the pool like a soggy mermaid and steal a kiss, but now Quentin's peeling his shirt off and instead of that, Koby's making a very undignified sound like he hasn't seen this man shirtless multiple times. He's still staring when Quentin dives into the pool, graceful and elegant, and he's only just thought about turning around when there's the warmth of a wet, broad-shouldered body pressed to his back.

Craning his neck to one side, Koby accepts the glasses with a sigh of relief, turning them over a couple times to check for cracks -- not a one, thank goodness, he doesn't know how he'd get a prescription pair here. Then he perches them in his damp hair, turning around in the space between Quentin and the side of the pool to grin up at him. One hand reaches up, smooths back his sodden curls, thumbs over his cheekbone familiarly, affectionately.] There they are, safe and sound. How can I ever thank you enough, kind, heroic stranger?