Bermuda could appreciate the beauty of the pearl but he held no interest in acquiring one for a hoard that he was supposed to be making. The trenches had left a lasting impact on him in that regard. Making him carefully consider every sort of item to see if it was worth trying to keep. In the cold water things were lost constantly, life was taken. You didn't try to keep things you couldn't or wouldn't carry with you at all times.
“I've seen similar things in my home waters so I'm fairly certain that they can survive almost anywhere.” He said waving a dripping paw at the mussel in the others grasp. The fur on his upper half slowly paling as he shifted back into his landform. Inky tentacles sliding together as they merged to make one singular tail.
“That's because I'm not.” Bermuda stated simply. There was a brief pause before he continued, silently weighing how much he should tell Loch. The decision was easy when he considered that he didn't exactly have many wolves he conversed with at the moment and none that he could talk about the sea with. “Bermuda and I come from the trenches though not from any of these water.” Magic had whisked him away as surely as it had whisked his adventurer friend from long ago.
“You come from warmer waters if your colors are anything to go by.” Bermuda stated but his head was tipped in slight question to see if his guess was correct. Colors were pointless in the depths unless it involved creating light in one form or another.