[ When he's spent his life careening from one disaster to the next with all the grace and aplomb of some cosmic plaything - at this point, the universe either really hates him or really likes him - he tends not to stop to reassess. There's a sensation like that in diving: putting a new tank off until the last minute, pushing his own limits for no other reason than to do so simply because he can.
When Nate got certified for stress and rescue it contained the usual stuff he already knew about, dive tables and proper safety precautions, first aid, CPR. What he hadn't been anticipating was one of the final exercises when they were already fifty feet below, a test of cool-headedness. A test intended to induce panic and encourage an understanding of the stakes. Gear is bulky and yet weightless underwater, the perfect environment in which an instructor might loop around while participants aren't looking before twisting their first stage open and shutting off their air.
Three or four good, unknowing breaths before inhaling nothing, the bubbles of a last exhale floating toward sea level. The immediate fear of realizing there are only two options: finding another diver and reaching out for help, or attempting ascent, risking the bends and flirting with a pulmonary embolism - provided a diver can reach the surface in the first place while the pressures crushes into their chest cavity, while the nitrogen expands.
It's why scuba has a buddy system. Easier to ask for air than drown. ]
Okay.
[ Nate nods and it's grudging, but honest. He can hold his breath much longer than most people, has a higher likelihood of making it, but it doesn't mean he has to. Worrying his lip with his teeth for a long moment, his gaze skips around until it makes eye contact again. ]
no subject
When Nate got certified for stress and rescue it contained the usual stuff he already knew about, dive tables and proper safety precautions, first aid, CPR. What he hadn't been anticipating was one of the final exercises when they were already fifty feet below, a test of cool-headedness. A test intended to induce panic and encourage an understanding of the stakes. Gear is bulky and yet weightless underwater, the perfect environment in which an instructor might loop around while participants aren't looking before twisting their first stage open and shutting off their air.
Three or four good, unknowing breaths before inhaling nothing, the bubbles of a last exhale floating toward sea level. The immediate fear of realizing there are only two options: finding another diver and reaching out for help, or attempting ascent, risking the bends and flirting with a pulmonary embolism - provided a diver can reach the surface in the first place while the pressures crushes into their chest cavity, while the nitrogen expands.
It's why scuba has a buddy system. Easier to ask for air than drown. ]
Okay.
[ Nate nods and it's grudging, but honest. He can hold his breath much longer than most people, has a higher likelihood of making it, but it doesn't mean he has to. Worrying his lip with his teeth for a long moment, his gaze skips around until it makes eye contact again. ]
I'll try.