Rebecca, too, is trying her hand at more comfortable clothing. She'd packed a few things, not sure what kind of weather she'd face, but two seconds in the climate and she's settled on a blouse and shorts herself. She is still wearing her breastplate and her armguard, so maybe she's not doing that great of a job.

She's certainly much better at moving without making a sound than she is at dressing like a normal teenage girl at any rate. Her voice rings out from somewhere to Kon's left; she'd been watching one of the sloths.

"Being made of steel doesn't sound enviable if you ask me. Are you having a rough time out here, Kon?"

She kind of hopes he is, because while 'dork' might not be in her natural vernacular, that's exactly what Kon is in her head.