Then the tide recedes, and you realize that, for one reason or another, you're still alive. And you only seem to be missing a little bit of yourself. A memory or two, but you'll be run over before you can tell where the holes are.
Coleman is shaking inside, and doing the mental equivalent of patting your jacket to figure out where your wallet is. Something's missing, and that's the worst thing, is that he doesn't know what it is. There's got to be. Gotta be a way to figure out what she took, right? He can't just go through life not even remembering what he lost, right? He feels seen, and touched, and violated, and he's not even allowed to have enough time to mourn for whatever it is he's lost!
"Coleman! Good on you for not playing dumb pagan games!" she said, walking over. "Honestly, I see so many grad students selling their souls for so much less than they're worth. Like, have you heard of self respect!? Are we going down that way?"
And then there's this asshole.
"No, we're going to go down if we're not across before the Storm gets here. Grab some driftwood and start paddling."
There will be time to mourn later. Right now is the time for practical solutions, and getting a train across a lake.
"Actually. We probably should share them, too. I think. Between ourselves. Unless we give up our memories of each other, I think that's... that'd probably for the best." Seasick smile. "Might be fun?"
Oh, sure. Great idea. Bit late, but good idea.
No, no. That's not fair. You're allowed to be bitter, but you chose this. Don't get angry at teammates just because they have the luxury of deciding what they give up.