"Oh no, I showed up with that," he promises him, any insult in the description subsumed into-well, the inability to give a shit. He's not sure how literal it's meant to be--fuck you wasn't really the vibe he tried to give off when he was rescuing people from the fountain or guiding them back to the inn when they wandered to the outskirts in shock.

But maybe, this many meetings in, he was giving that vibe to Major.

Fucking oops.

"No, it starts falling form the sky to compensate for it being winter in the woods," he says, eyes searching the heavens. "We're lucky to have a harvest this year."