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"With my trusty suit of armour, I'll be out of here in a jiffy!" Siegward calls up to his Sun-wreathed saviour. "Until we meet again, my good friend!" He does not mention that he needed the armour more for modesty than anything else.
He ought to have been more careful, but can he blame himself for such an enjoyable blunder? Companionship is rare these days; charming rogues and undisturbed alcoves are rarer still. And napping is the only thing to do, really, after a merry romp. Rather less enjoyable, Siegward admits, is waking up at the bottom of a well.