He frowns, but doesn't protest the notion of slowing down, because Deacon's right and Danse had anticipated this as a problem. And anyway, it isn't Deacon's fault he hasn't developed any useful adaptations here aside from the breathing, even if Danse still doesn't understand why that's the case. He'd find something to lecture about if he could, but really, there's nothing.

At least not about the swimming. He pauses, floating with his arms folded disapprovingly, looking in the general direction of Deacon's voice and not remotely managing to make anything resembling eye contact.

"This is exactly the kind of thing I mean when I say modulating field technology can't be trusted. The effects are cumulative. I can't think why that would be making it last longer, but I wouldn't put it past the device to make that possible, and god knows what else it's doing besides."

He continues downward, expecting Deacon to follow, and expecting the conversation to carry on as well. As much of a killjoy as he might be right now (and always, honestly), he does at least make an effort to swim more slowly, though it's not easy when his tail wants to propel him more powerfully.

Outside, the afternoon has turned to evening, sun gradually beginning to sink. In here, the lights remain inconsistent, and time feels pretty meaningless.