Pilar gaped in surprise when a submerged girl popped up. A submarine?! U-Boat! Her dream, a century in the making, coming true! She fumbled for another grenade from her belt, preparing to throw it at the damned kraut. She was going to take her back to the Florida Keys, a captured kraut boat, yessiree! “Oh my gosh!”
Her grandiose plans came to a shrieking halt when a fairy-sized whiskey bottle coming from her rigging clinked off her head, with a comical bonk. The grenade she’d taken from her belt fell out of her hand, entering the water with a plop, the safeties still on. By the time Pilar retrieved it, she’d realised she wasn’t facing a U-boat — not that she would be allowed to attack one, anyways. If she was part of a navy, at least.
Rather awkwardly, Pilar began to sail closer mostly to pick up the dead fish. Nervously, the fishing boat girl twirled a lock of hair with one finger, muttering to herself at first. “Darnit, you’re not a kraut boat… Um, sorry! I’m Pilar, who’re you?”
Given Alvin’s design requirements to dive into ocean trenches, had the grenade gone off in Alvin’s face it would have most likely broken her glasses and blinded her until repairwork could have been done and a more thorough check of her pressure hull done for micro-fractures, it would have been likely she would have survived. Still, there was a slight shock when the grenade hit her square on the bridge of her nose. Had she not been wearing a lanyard around the back of her eyewear’s temple tips, her glasses would have been following the wayward munition down the 180 feet trip to the bottom.
“No, I am not a German,” Avlin stated flatly. “I’m DSV Alvin of Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute, you might have heard of me through articles on deep sea diving on ship wrecks with Dr. Robert Bollard when he was still alive. I’m a research submarine. Now, if you have some high strength fishing line I can retrieve what you just threw at me so it doesn’t impact the various aquatic fauna below us.”