"What? An Earp in Hell? Who woulda thought," he drawls, smirking as he strolls closer, giving her a look. Most specifically her hip. He's been told since he arrived that weapons weren't really a thing, and that sight is nearly reassuring.

Not that he believes her, or the lack of Peacemaker resting there.

"Don't you dare fucking bring her into this, Earp," he growls, expression fading quickly. She's been every thought in his head, and everything he's tried to forget since - as far as he knows from the moment he came to this place - she left him there to die.

"Water? What's the ma..." The words fade and then he can't help himself. He laughs. Hard. "Let me... guess..." Still laughing. "Dusted your margarita with a little red salt? Awwww, Kitten. That must suck."

Because he's done it himself, but he's not admitting to that. Instead he gestures to a bucket nearby to catch any rain run off.

"I've heard soaking your head completely under water for about, hmmm, ten minutes can help. Just make sure to stay under until you can't feel the heat anymore."