There’s always an uncomfortable and slightly disturbing feeling to be pulled out from a slimy bog with all the schlopping and sucking sensations, but the relief that comes after tones everything down to a whisper. He’s never been a big fan of hard rock before (hard often equals pain and scraped hands and knees), not until he’d experienced his first fall into a pit of slime.
So it comes as no great surprise when he finds himself wanting to praise his rescuer in full song and dance – not that either of those are his to begin with, but when it comes from that ‘nowhere’ place within the heart, then it’s something that has to be expressed, unless he doesn’t mind experiencing the hairiest sort of shame.
It’s only polite to thank the one who helps him with no sense of obligation or strings attached, but he doesn’t want to be only polite, so he does much, much more, even though he knows it’s not enough (for himself), yet still accepted in his rescuer’s eyes.
It becomes a cycle of thanks and rescues, and he hopes it will never be broken.