Whatever works, right?

There are swimming lessons, and by about lunchtime she's quite confident that he's unlikely to drown anytime soon.

Her hair is coming loose from the swimming cap on her head, damp curls peeking teasingly out from underneath.

"You're a fast learner," she tells him with a grin, stretching out the kinks that swimming has put in her muscles.

Sorry, Connor. She's entirely oblivious to the potential effect of said stretching on observers.