[In the mean time, Aral considers the tree from a couple of angles, smirks to himself and gets to work.
It's not... anywhere near perfect. No real materials and it's certainly not his medium, but by virtue of a fortuitously shaped tree branch, the o ring harness and being quite handy with knots, it's a deer head with colorful, silicone, multi-speed antlers. ]
[ Meanwhile, she's climbing up into a tree to find the best spot the damn vibrators to get caught in the wind. It takes her some time to secure the batch to a sturdy tree limb and she gives the bunch a smack to make sure they'll clank together properly.
If Cordelia had other plans for these, she really should have included instructions.
The sight that greets her after she climbs down is rather... majestic. She laughs as she walks around the makeshift deer head and reaches to touch one of its antlers. ]
[He starts to amble over to the firepit to inspect what had been gathered for the night. A stray breeze catches some speed and force as it whistles up along the small mountain, ... setting Tex's hard work to a loud display of thunks and clacks as plastic ricocheted off each other and tree bark.]
It... [There's an obvious struggle not to laugh.] ... is certainly functional.
[He unholsters the plasma arc and puts it back on low, and barely squeezes the trigger, aiming just above the logs and branches. The hot trail of plasma sets the firepit ablaze instantly.]
[It had been what? Four months since that blind night through the hills of Barrayar, some by groundcar, some by flyer, some by horse. And five here...]
Less than a year, standard.
[He flips the safety on and holsters the plasma arc again, and takes a seat besides Tex.]
[ It's a little relieving that he's not pulling away at that. She drags the bag over in front of her and fishes out the simple food they brought to make with their portable cooking equipment. ]
It's too bad we couldn't hunt for dinner this trip.
[Which is good. His own skill over a fire is around the range of "burn the parasites out" rather than a whole lot of skill.
He spends most of it either passing anything she asks for or needs, the rest with his hands folded behind his head, watching her work as the sun went down.]
Same ... I wonder if you'd be adverse to something like this regularly...
I suggested coming out here in the first place. [ Her own cooking skills aren't anything spectacular, but she has the basics and thankfully, they're not making anything gourmet.
When she finishes, she leans back on the palms of her hands and leaves him to serve himself. ] I wouldn't mind penciling this in more often.
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