Re: lake, by the shore
In the dark, he was somewhat warmed by her comment. Only recently had anyone suggested there was anything nice or kind about him, when usually there were far different adjectives chosen, ones that suggested action and immovability. (Said people weren't far off, though, because he did make sure that he wasn't in the same place to be splashed. Her aim was wide of mark.) He chuckled quietly in the dark. "Not fun, exactly. Relaxing. Relaxing vices." He did not like to show his vices where they might be seen.
Anonymity gave him the same kind of contentment she experienced in her glowing world. For him, it represented endurable safety, an impenetrable shield between what made him most vulnerable and the rest of the world. She had managed to send a few arrows through, unintentional though it may have been, and that was the cost of venturing past solitude. He had found through past experience that he was unable to maintain solitude interminably; he became someone unrecognizable even to himself, and he had set safeguards against the monster he became when left unattended.
Like an imaginary creature left under the bed, he mused. That would be something she would approve of. He rolled over in the water onto his stomach again, thinking to mention it to her and hear whatever babble she concocted to match it, but she was gone. "Hey!" he said, in alarm, dividing the water with his hands and working his way to where she had been before. He was used to the dark and his vision was good, but it wasn't supernatural. "Hey!" he shouted again, a little louder this time, with desperation. When she didn't come up in another five seconds, he started to swim again, moving grimly in the direction of the island at a guess, staying atop the water so he would hear if she came up again.