[jyn and clarke will subject themselves to prompto argentum on a field trip: whistling, humming, and making random, passing comments. the further they head into the thick of the woods, however, the quieter he gets. the fascination he feels for what he's seeing (and taking a myriad of pictures of with his neural implant) slowly simmers into a tense feeling. there's a lot of life here, which is somewhat unnerving, and it feels somewhat disrespectful to cut through with his knife when their path is blocked.]
[he smacks a hand to the side of his neck as they arrive at the small clearing, prompto making a face. he's fine from the neck down, having opted for long sleeves to counter the sun, but it seems like mosquitoes will always find a way to skin.]
[he's already scratching at the side of his knee.]
[a fire gets going, even if it's slow going, prompto commenting here and there about how--oppressive it feels. he doesn't feel like being up for loud conversatons, worried it might rouse something from its hiding place. he can see big eyes on branches, hear the buzz of insects, and thankfully the crackle of a small fire. it's not so much for warmth as it is to give them a protective perimeter.]
[in the end, he can't help himself.] Does anyone else feel like we're being watched?
[it's what he hisses out, looking up at jyn and clarke, his eyes darting past their shoulders to and fro, movement in the dark green loud but unseen.]
no subject
[he smacks a hand to the side of his neck as they arrive at the small clearing, prompto making a face. he's fine from the neck down, having opted for long sleeves to counter the sun, but it seems like mosquitoes will always find a way to skin.]
[he's already scratching at the side of his knee.]
[a fire gets going, even if it's slow going, prompto commenting here and there about how--oppressive it feels. he doesn't feel like being up for loud conversatons, worried it might rouse something from its hiding place. he can see big eyes on branches, hear the buzz of insects, and thankfully the crackle of a small fire. it's not so much for warmth as it is to give them a protective perimeter.]
[in the end, he can't help himself.] Does anyone else feel like we're being watched?
[it's what he hisses out, looking up at jyn and clarke, his eyes darting past their shoulders to and fro, movement in the dark green loud but unseen.]