Arla stared at him like this was a horrible, horrible thing. "What? No," she said, hands pressed against her chest, fingers spread to show the delicate greenish webbing. Her skin was thick and difficult to damage, but her webbing wasn't as hardy. Spread like this, there was a definite tear between the two middle fingers of her left hand. It wasn't something that was easily bandaged and it couldn't be stitched. It was something she'd have to see Elvyran about eventually, see if he could fix it. It looked dark and rather painful... but Elvyran had his hands full with keeping people like Kurt alive. She'd have to wait.
"I wasn't worried, shut up, David," she said with a snort. "I'm sure you can take care of yourself ... and you can, can't you?" She slipped over to him, her flippers making a light slapping sound on the damp floor around the edge of the pool. It was a wonder that she managed to walk with such appendages. The flippers were thin and malleable enough to the point where she could fit them into boots if she needed to and could get around just fine, but barefoot and walking she looked a bit like a scuba diver out of water. Awkwardness aside, they were charming and expressive.