Some of the words in the snow probably can't be translated, but are curses nevertheless. Her help is appreciated, so hopefully, Diana can at least tell he's not swearing at her - but at the whole damned situation. His head finally pops out of the drift, jaw dropped, and mandibles fluttering wildly against it. Turian version of teeth chattering.

"What - what in the - hell - just happened?"

He's not injured, he's sure of that. Toes, fingers, they still twitch when he tells them to. Even though there's snow between his plates, in his mouth and soaking the clothes he'd been wearing. He has fallen into hell. Literal hell.

"Diana -?"