Not unpleasant to Roland, but Tidus is scrunching his nose to the mingling burning smells. He's not used to it; only to the salt in the sea, swishing and rising into the breezes that carry it. Spira's flora was the same for it, more drowning than the sea could ever be for someone who's lived their whole life with and beside it. He keeps his complaints to himself though, happy for the easier way of dealing with the junk. As long as he doesn't put too much power into it and keeps the spells off from the actual consoles, it shouldn't be too bad.

Yet-- it's not the biggest offence. The smell of burning weeds tolerable, but- there was a thought spurred even before Roland's answer. The reason he offered the sphere. A memory by the winding forest of blue made from water and magic. A man who didn't belong amongst it, struggling with his words.

'Anyways... I believe in you. Be good.

Goodbye.'

It tugs at some emotion that Tidus can't sort out as Roland carries on, his attention on innards made of metal and wire. Tidus joins him with that lump in his, swallowing it easily down; but not entirely ridding himself out it.

"You going to give it a go? We can mark it and leave it." That is- "Leave a teleport here and Spider can bring someone who knows what they're doing here."

Later. He'll think about that emotion later.