Bartimaeus ignores her hand, scraping up onto the dock with the power of sheer tenacity. Once there, however-- the sea lion waddles ungainly on the rough boards, shaking itself back and forth to flick stray water droplets from its oiled coat. The water reeks, by the way.

Somewhere in there amidst all the shaking, his essence has begun to congeal unpleasantly back into the shape of that now-familiar looking boy. He's not quite managed to dry himself before he's person shaped again, all thin skin and freezing and looking something like a drowned, shivering rat.

"Don't tell me what to do," he chatters as he rolls to his feet. But also-- that lamplight there looks like it might be illuminating the shingle of a boarding or public house. Shoes squishing, he makes a beeline for it.