(The higgledies have actually began camping, indeed, the job of setting up the station already done. Robots? Fought 'em. Vines? Cut 'em. With three higgledy heroes, nothing is impossible!)
He's still carefully trying to rub at his nose, but his quick respite on the dirtied ground is enough to shake off most of the troublesome pain. Roland shakes his head to get his bearings as Tidus addresses the situation. He rests a hand against Inigo's good shoulder to stand up, trying to dust himself off but it's gross when the drench soaks him to the bone, water warmed and his palms grimed with jungle muck.
What even is going on...This is what he gets for challenging the twin teens ill-prepared. Next time, he's gotta be ready for those spells hitting him from behind. So it is little surprise that Roland is too busy with his admitted vanity to notice Inigo's flustered state, and contributing the worst way possible by actually squeezing out his own shirt and slipping his arms out of the sleeves to take it off too.
"I got it, I got it. Inigo, if you need to change shirts, I've probably got spares. Hold on - " The Arms Band revealed, wrapped around his bare bicep now as a duffel bag appears out of nowhere, dropped to the floor, and zipped open for extra clothes. But as he rummages through for three new t-shirts, Roland's eyes grow wide, a hand darting up to his head of hair.
His hair.
"No...S-Sea water will...!" he says under his breath.
Make it brittle! GAH!
Hey, hey listen. Don't mind him silently panicking over his beautiful black locks, now dried up from the sea water attack, and tangled in a mess that's impossible to comb through even with fingers. He's not panicking. Inigo's not panicking. No one is panicking. It's fine. It's alllll fine.
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He's still carefully trying to rub at his nose, but his quick respite on the dirtied ground is enough to shake off most of the troublesome pain. Roland shakes his head to get his bearings as Tidus addresses the situation. He rests a hand against Inigo's good shoulder to stand up, trying to dust himself off but it's gross when the drench soaks him to the bone, water warmed and his palms grimed with jungle muck.
What even is going on...This is what he gets for challenging the twin teens ill-prepared. Next time, he's gotta be ready for those spells hitting him from behind. So it is little surprise that Roland is too busy with his admitted vanity to notice Inigo's flustered state, and contributing the worst way possible by actually squeezing out his own shirt and slipping his arms out of the sleeves to take it off too.
"I got it, I got it. Inigo, if you need to change shirts, I've probably got spares. Hold on - " The Arms Band revealed, wrapped around his bare bicep now as a duffel bag appears out of nowhere, dropped to the floor, and zipped open for extra clothes. But as he rummages through for three new t-shirts, Roland's eyes grow wide, a hand darting up to his head of hair.
His hair.
"No...S-Sea water will...!" he says under his breath.
Make it brittle! GAH!
Hey, hey listen. Don't mind him silently panicking over his beautiful black locks, now dried up from the sea water attack, and tangled in a mess that's impossible to comb through even with fingers. He's not panicking. Inigo's not panicking. No one is panicking. It's fine. It's alllll fine.