This magpie-like practicality might save them in this world. Altaïr's hands are deft and sure as a Master Assassin's must be, even if he is still finding his land legs, but he does feel a slight heat in his face as he rushes to dress and does not look at Maria's hair. The mystery of their manner of arrival continues to grow, and gathering what things they can to themselves demands attention. He also needs to concentrate to stand properly, and this troubles him. But he can stand, so there is that.

"A strong, reliable current that carries people and things to shore. The people of this land have come to expect it," he guesses as he fixes his leathers in place and slings the bag over his shoulder. This exceptional bag kept everything in it dry and sand-free. Another mystery that must be shelved in the name of survival.

"There is still the matter of my blades, save for this one." He lifts his left arm slightly; his left bracer contains the Hidden Blade. Maria will know it, having seen it pointed at her. "And anything of yours that is missing... If they have not been stolen already."

He casts a baleful glance up and down the beach before finally tugging his trademark hood over his short, damp hair to cloak his face back in mystery for anyone who does not already know him.