Ravi hates leaving the crops, but he knows in his heart that this is the pragmatic choice. Sometimes, he really hates being practical, is all. "I wasn't going to die," he protests, feeling like he ought to at least hold that stubbornness out a little longer. "Not immediately, anyhow, and I promise if things got too scary, I would've folded and run inside myself."

Kira just got to him sooner, and there's no telling whether a stray shingle would've beamed him in the head. "This isn't normal hail," is what he says, darkly. "Not that anything in this place is normal, but this feels ominous. Plague-like ominous."