[travis may not be a nature expert-- some nerd like him? not by any means-- but he has spent a hell of a lot of time camping over the last few years. (also, he's watched the discovery channel. thank fuck he didn't get dropped here buck ass naked.) the concepts are all the same, even if a tropical jungle isn't quite the backwoods of texas: find firewood, find a safe spot to crash, figure out how to keep whatever or whoever is out there from killing you in the dead of night.
he's halfway through step one, lugging a bundle of driftwood in his arms, when he notices the man on the shore. the man... who is still on the shore. he's been ducking in and out of the jungle for the last hour, at least-- why the hell is this guy still out here?
he sidles past him to grab a nice, dry-looking hunk of wood off the sand. without looking up, he calls:]
Hey, man-- you know nobody's coming back for us, right?
[sure, it's not his job to make sure this guy doesn't get eaten... but he does feel a little bad. it'll be such a waste if he doesn't even try to make it out here.]
arrival
he's halfway through step one, lugging a bundle of driftwood in his arms, when he notices the man on the shore. the man... who is still on the shore. he's been ducking in and out of the jungle for the last hour, at least-- why the hell is this guy still out here?
he sidles past him to grab a nice, dry-looking hunk of wood off the sand. without looking up, he calls:]
Hey, man-- you know nobody's coming back for us, right?
[sure, it's not his job to make sure this guy doesn't get eaten... but he does feel a little bad. it'll be such a waste if he doesn't even try to make it out here.]