Re: M4 WG: Harsh Climates
Xyklo, still twitchy as hell, sets about preparing some lead cover. Unfortunately he is distracted by the constant stress of feeling unseen eyes upon them. A loose mess of leaves forms at best a windbreaker but no real camouflage.
He slumps to his knees.
”Yes Captain, just let me know when you need me,” he whirs, too tired now to correct his mistake.
He begins to arrange his rifles in accessible position from the leaf bedmatting, looping a length of rope around them and to his waist.
”Well... I guess we got no jam...” he replies quietly to Zeic, but wrinkles his snout at the strips of meat.