Flint grunted out blunt curses as he saw Cho slip beneath the surface of the waves. His sandals were kicked off as he strode out into the surf, deeper and deeper. Though he was far taller and sturdier than Cho, he still struggled against the waves; the Cornish sea was not a gentle mistress.
His shorts and Falcons t-shirt were sodden by the time he reached her. "Here. Let me help." Putting his arm out to support her was more awkward than he thought. With an annoyed growl, he pulled her bodily up out of the water to hold her against his chest almost like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. He didn't really feel like analysing the symbolism, though.