It might seem that someone with his capabilities and all of the shit that he's been through that nothing would scare him. But Levi has his fears just as anyone else, and even if he does have generations of instincts packed into the strange power in his blood, it doesn't mean he automatically knows how to swim.

And frankly, it's fucking terrifying feeling water start to close over your head. Probably then that preternatural instinct would have taken over, and he would have figured out something on the precipice of life and death. It's a shitty way to learn, though.

This is better.

Strong hands clasp at his middle, holding him steady, but his own still rest on Finnick's biceps, fingertips pressing in for stability. Levi stops as instructed, feeling his pulse beat a little too strongly in his throat from that spike of adrenaline. For a few seconds he hangs there, letting the younger man take his weight, feet dangling. It's a little like being suspended in midair by the gear, but even that realization doesn't quite alleviate the anxiety of deep(er) water.

Yet Finnick's calm, firm voice and clear direction are grounding, and as Levi holds that aquamarine gaze, matching their breaths, he visibly settles again.

Push the water downward.

"Right." He takes another breath. "Got it..."

Over the next few minutes, he tries a few different motions - the first are too literal, almost like a stomping motion, too difficult to maintain easily. But eventually he finds a gentler, more fluid motion, a bit like walking. This feels maybe like it's working, more natural...but he doesn't let go of Finnick just yet.