In which SK owns our souls and we like it
Nick trotted along behind Scott, trying to take in the jungle without getting left behind. It was pretty intimidating, and Nick was glad he hadn't tried to find Glen on his own. Might as well be looking for Dr. Livingston. There was the occasional treehouse, as well as low-swooping parrots in many pretty colors. Nick didn't think he wanted to know just yet what other kinds of wildlife were on this island, if it was so un-picky about what people it collected.
He had wrested the paper away from Scott on the grounds that he needed it more, and was glad he hadn't had to make him part with his pen, too. Scott seemed a little attached, which Nick could sympathize with. It was close to noon by the height of the sun, and Nick was sweating like a pig before long. He tapped Scott on the shoulder to get him to stop for a minute while Nick rolled up his jeans and took off his overshirt. He stopped short of taking off his shoes, at least not before asking (via the paper):
[You get a lot of snakebites around here?]
He had wrested the paper away from Scott on the grounds that he needed it more, and was glad he hadn't had to make him part with his pen, too. Scott seemed a little attached, which Nick could sympathize with. It was close to noon by the height of the sun, and Nick was sweating like a pig before long. He tapped Scott on the shoulder to get him to stop for a minute while Nick rolled up his jeans and took off his overshirt. He stopped short of taking off his shoes, at least not before asking (via the paper):
[You get a lot of snakebites around here?]