[Buddy... Guy's definitely chipper. Too chipper to be moving around barrels like an arcade game in this kind of heat. He kills the engine just to save on some gas but doesn't get out of the vehicle. Stands, hands lightly resting on the metal of the roll cage, which is in retrospect not the smartest thing he's ever done, but he makes no complaint about the heat of the bars. Yet. Blame the callouses.]
Will do. [And he will. He's driven in worse circumstances.] You...want a hand with that?
[Before he really does drop a barrel on his feet.]
no subject
Will do. [And he will. He's driven in worse circumstances.] You...want a hand with that?
[Before he really does drop a barrel on his feet.]