[ He follows at an awkward jog. The sand isn't doing him any favors, but for all that he doesn't have the build of an athlete, he doesn't slow or go breathless when he should; he just keeps moving, as steadily as he'd walked. First he doesn't notice, then he looks faintly surprised at himself, and then increasingly unnerved. ]
Does this sort of thing happen a lot? [ He jerks a thumb back towards their shambling pursuers, flashes a thin white grin at her through the dark. ] Are the plants always this... prickly?
no subject
Does this sort of thing happen a lot? [ He jerks a thumb back towards their shambling pursuers, flashes a thin white grin at her through the dark. ] Are the plants always this... prickly?