Myth just smirked, trying to cover up his unease with the water. He had both his hands clamped to both sides of the boat, turning white from the pressure he forced upon the boat, he avoided splinters only by the unnatural protection of the gloves. For the rest of the ride to the opposite side of the lake, Myth's smirk became a frozen smile, hands clutching each side and doing his best to minimize the rocking [though he wasn't helping it].

As they struck shore, and Syrell jumped out, was ambushed, and blasted the Vocator with fire, Myth shakily jumped out of the boat, soaking his armored boots and shins, but he was more worried with being on the ground and not in a rickety boat. As he bent over, hands on his knees, he unsteadily said, 

"You're going to get us both killed if you keep using your powers anywhere the Imperials have influence."
Then, as he took in the fire, he said, "Oh wonderful. Fire beats ambush. Where to next, firestone?"