Arthur could believe his neighbor was a werewolf.

He could buy the businessman down the street being a vampire.

Hell, he wasn't even surprised when Ariadne, his barista, informed him she was some sort of badass faery with the ability to predict his love life (although the last part was iffy, she told him yesterday he was about to meet the love of his life - Arthur wasn't convinced).

But merpeople were the last straw.

There was no way.

And so he sat in Cobb's tiny dinghy. Without paddles. Which had drifted out into the middle of the ocean. Clouds had blotted out the sun, sheets of rain long soaking through his three-piece suit.

Arthur was convinced the next flash of lightning would illuminate a shark, ready to swallow him whole.

And did he mention he couldn't swim?

Suddenly, if at all possible, the deluge strengthened, fat drops slicing like knives against Arthur's near-hypothermic skin. The wind picked up, howling like the rational part of his consciousness that was screaming to never bet Cobb ever again -

That's when the dinghy overturned, its wooden hull lost in the roll of a wave crashing over him.

Arthur screamed, clawed, coughed, inky bubbles swirling around him in every direction -

One thought surfaced in Arthur's mind, an endless loop - Mal's going to be pissed.

Arthur didn't know which way was up, his lungs were burning, panic was shooting through him. He flailed, his vision growing dark -

Then something grabbed his arm. He was pulled, dragged, and was pressed against something hard, something moving -

The last thing Arthur saw was emerald eyes, fractals of brilliant color staring back at him, a sharp jaw, rough with stubble, and - were those scales?

A/N:

Prompt: Scales

WC: Less than 300 words