Setheran joined them by the campfire as he watched water spray from the mage's staff like a broken wellpump. He smirked, and chuckled along with the Phoenix's great burst of boisterous laughter, dryly commenting, "If you want something to drink, just ask. No need to use the campfire as a wineskin, methinks." He paused for a moment, before added, "You could've at least filled it up before that twig of yours gave out."

Then he muttered a curse as some of it splashed on his outfit, from a burned branch collapsing in the little campsite, sending a small, but for Seth, and deadly volley of water droplets. Showing up with a half-soaked outfit is hardly the way to go, when coming up to a town. Hardly good to keep up appearances, OR reputation.

Even though it was just a few droplets.

Either way, his hooded head turned to the laughing Phoenix, and asking, "Well then, why don't you start the fire? I'd say the old man's efforts were admirable, if the opposite what we were looking for. Or assume he was meaning." He took out his wineskin from beneath several folds of clothing, and took a refreshing swig of old, leathery-tasting wine.

Oh dear. A water sprayer... that might soak him. It might even push his cowl back, if he was sprayed directly.

Water was deadly.