The fact that Aly can't or won't speak is almost as concerning as the fall she took, and Devin can't discern whether the problem is physical, mental, magical, or all three. Her pyrokinetic abilities - and whatever else was associated with them, he still doesn't know - almost certainly make water something of a natural enemy. It isn't such a leap to think that's why she's panicking.

Some spectators have gathered, and Devin ignores them. He glances over his shoulder at the water, and then around them to search for his jacket. It's laying a few yards away and Devin goes quickly to retrieve it so he can wrap it tightly around Aly's shoulders. "Alright," he says, rubbing her arms for the tactile sensation as much as trying to provide warmth. "New question, and this one is a test. A smart high-schooler like you ought to be good at those." When in doubt, go back to their old patterns of hassling each other? "Can you say the alphabet backwards? Out loud," Devin prompts.

He's relying on techniques that he sometimes uses, or has seen used, but not everything worked for everyone. Maybe if Devin can shift her concentration, she'll be able to calm down some.