As soon as the boat had gotten close to the land, Greg was up and out of his seat, up and out of his boat. He had to move before he went out of his skin. As he lifted off of the bench, white flames surrounded him for a moment. He could pull them into himself, he knew he could, but at the moment there was nothing else he could control, so he was going to control his White Fire. He did a few flips in the air to calm his head, like a shooting star that got drunk, or a small white sun doing loops.

He finally dropped down, feeling better. He leaned against his walking stick and looked around. When he heard her, he limped over. "You're excused," he said with a warm smile, a flicker of white fire moving across his bright red hair before fading out.