Damian took the hand that he’d been offered, having decided that the female could be trusted; she’d chased off his captors, and if that wasn’t an act of kindness, Damian wasn’t sure that such a thing existed. He pulled himself forward with all of the might that a child of his age could muster, and flopped over the edge of the pool; it was rather embarrassing, appearing so helpless, but at the same time, Damian knew better than to assume he would have survived a game of football with the pair that had attempted to drown him. He'd needed the help.
For a moment Damian pondered the possibility that the males had expected Damian’s head to become visible once more only when it was no longer protecting a functioning mind within. Could a few drinks – or, whatever it was that the teenagers had done to themselves in order to make them act in such a way, assuming, of course, that they were not naturally so cruel and ignorant– really turn a pair of young boys into murders? Damian felt that it was a possibility worth considering, for he too was to become a teenager, and he did not wish to make any mistakes that could lead to death. Despite the fact that he was rather wise beyond his years, Damian’s innocence prevented him from grasping the concept of Death, and thus, it frightened him like no other element.
Having slapped on his usual, blank facial expression as he thought, Damian crawled onto the tiled deck that the pool was a part of, and laid flat on his back, allowing his questions to completely overwhelm him for a moment; a moment of silence for thought was necessary every now-and-then when Damian was concerned, or his thoughts would surely overpower him, and a flood of thoughts, theories, numbers, and questions would break through his boundaries and poor out into the real world.
After organizing his thoughts precisely, putting everything back in order, Damian sat up, and pulled off his shoes to examine the damage.
Speaking of a flood…
“Brilliant…” he spoke aloud, though his tone did not hold any real emotion – in fact, his autopilot ways made it rather difficult to decipher the meaning behind the words that he chose to let through his filter and to see the light of day. He set the sneakers down beside him, though he made certain that they were upside-down when he did so; if there was any chance of saving his shoes, he would have to start by draining the water.
Suddenly, the small, alien-like child turned his eyes towards his savior once more, and offered her a grateful grin, “Hopefully I wont become one of them – one of the brain-dead, that is.” he stated in reply to the redhead’s earlier comment on the teenage population.
Shortly after, Damian counted to himself each time the letter “D” had been spoken aloud, moving his lips absentmindedly to form each number, as he’d found himself compelled to since the moment he’d learned the alphabet.
"My name is Damian," he introduced himself, though he felt somewhat uneasy about giving his name away to a complete stranger - but he dared not speak his last name aloud; one part of a name was more than enough in Damian's eyes.