[There is something to be said for the ability to remain calm even in the most bizarre of circumstances— Cyrus has often been grateful for his gift of being able to keep a cool head, and now is certainly no different. It's exactly as she says; this situation is terribly intimate for a meeting of strangers, and he has no intention of making it any more difficult or uncomfortable than it may already be for her. His own curiosity is certainly piqued— this is a chance neither of them will likely ever have again— but a healthy dose of respect keeps it from getting the better of him.]

None taken, my dear girl, I assure you.

[He gives a soft chuckle of his own, one that rings a bit strangely being in a voice he's not used to hearing. He is cautious in patting himself down with one of the towels she'd brought; the dress won't be ruined, he hopes, either by water or mud. He does not know much about ladies' finery, but has worn enough silk shirts and other well-tailored pieces of his own to know that clothing can be quite delicate.]

I hear some of the faeries discussing what was to be done if anyone was struck during the storm, in fact. I had not realized what the result would be, but anyone suffering any after effects was advised to make 'rainwater tea.'

[He does pause as he looks back at her, a frown pulling at his lips as that last part of what she says hits properly.]

I cannot claim anywhere near so much experience, but even so, I do believe those men ought to be ashamed of themselves.