Yes to both, but those aren't really responsible for his behavior. He actually is pretty sure he was just breathing underwater. He'd still be choking, if he wasn't.

The memories are clicking into place belatedly; first the floating pufferfish, the barbs and bubbles. How weird his dream had been. The jumpscare he'd woken up to was none other than his good 'ole pal-adin Danse saving his life. In all his fishy glory.

Deacon is taking it in, the weird gill movements to the absolutely unsettling light bobbing above his head. "I can see that," he replies bluntly, "You had to get a whole new look, and right when I was starting to get used to those good boy ears."

He shakes his head with a tutting sound. "And people give me shit for changing up my face. Ah well..."

A hand awkwardly pats at Danse's shoulder where he's being supported, and Deacon sighs. "Thanks, by the way. You can let go of me, now. I don't think I'll sink."