[It's increasingly hard to tell what Jean is thinking on the increasingly arduous trek, possibly because most of the time he has his head down and his shoulders up, doing his (somewhat noodly but quietly uncomplaining) best to drag himself and way too many supplies up a mountain.
... Hopefully it's up the mountain, as he rarely pauses to actually look up and watch where he's going -- though possibly watching his feet is the safer bet here. There's still a grunt and groan here and there but for the most part he's about as good a pack mule as can be.
Minus the slowness, of course. He takes even longer than Garma to set up his own tent, always being somewhere near the tail end of the group and definitively needing a breather or three either way. Still, eventually he gets himself set up and out and about and:]
Zabi, right? Are flowers big where you come from?
[... given the flowers they're dealing with that becomes unintentionally double-layered in meaning, but presumably these aren't too monstrous yet. Just a little unsettling. He watches them with an alert sort of stare.]
flower fields
... Hopefully it's up the mountain, as he rarely pauses to actually look up and watch where he's going -- though possibly watching his feet is the safer bet here. There's still a grunt and groan here and there but for the most part he's about as good a pack mule as can be.
Minus the slowness, of course. He takes even longer than Garma to set up his own tent, always being somewhere near the tail end of the group and definitively needing a breather or three either way. Still, eventually he gets himself set up and out and about and:]
Zabi, right? Are flowers big where you come from?
[... given the flowers they're dealing with that becomes unintentionally double-layered in meaning, but presumably these aren't too monstrous yet. Just a little unsettling. He watches them with an alert sort of stare.]