Theories about the soil Jude can deal with: theories about the canyon at large, or why they're here, are things he avoids entirely. When one of those theories comes with a way to get home, he'll start doing the math. Until then, he just wants to get through the day without thinking so hard about it he flops over like a dead fish, or a puppet with all of its strings suddenly cut.

Thinking isn't the trigger, but he's always worse off when he lets the world stress him out.

That leaves him studying his new friend, glancing up to do more than check the shape of the eyes he's suggesting with shadows in the shape of the face. "It's you," he confirms, finding the dashing, dodging gaze an odd level of respectful, much more than he's used to for himself or his work. Flipping the pad under his hand, he neatly slips away from the subject and gives Bodhi reason to look. "I like your sash."