If there were any less adrenaline in the air, and he were any more predisposed to leaping to such absurd conclusions as presuming someone might actually have flammable blood (well, and still be alive - or not Oghren), he might have pressed it. But, for the moment, her quick dismissal strikes him as odd, but no more so than the assumptions he's already made. Or, frankly, than an army of bloated, salty corpses marching out of the sea.

So he leaves it be, with another (slightly less harried) look back over their shoulders.

"Anders." He'd offer her his hand, but - considering. He offers the one in his a reassuring squeeze instead of a shake. "And that I can do easily. Uh, besides, we might want to find someone to tell about what's going on down there? Perhaps of the authoritative sort?"

Just a thought. He isn't so sure they're not going to find those things slouching their way into the temple, too, if they linger there long enough. And obviously no one else should go down to the beach, tonight, if possible. Not without warning.

Those are concerns for a little later, though, as he gives her that narrow, studious look again. "Are you hurt? I didn't see any of them get you, but - who could see anything out there? In any case, I could help. I am a healer."