Cricket has been on a rest break for the past thirty minutes or so, sprawled on the floor in the back and rubbing the kinks out of his legs as best he can. He's come to the conclusion that he can step out at least once more today, so he's put his braces back on and hauled himself up and back toward the front of the shelter, when he hears Kinner's voice.
He doesn't exactly sound panicked, but definitely alarmed. Cricket promptly takes a detour to find out what's up. Lawrence he actually recognizes from the table of odds and ends where he loaned his tools. Anna, not so much. There are very few people he'd side with against Kinner anyway, though, so he makes a point of drawing himself up to his full height (a humble but not too tiny 5'8") and staring the other two down.
"'S there some kind of problem here?" He asks, like he has anything to back up that stern tone with. "'Cause it's too cold, and I figure most of us're too tired, for a fight."
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He doesn't exactly sound panicked, but definitely alarmed. Cricket promptly takes a detour to find out what's up. Lawrence he actually recognizes from the table of odds and ends where he loaned his tools. Anna, not so much. There are very few people he'd side with against Kinner anyway, though, so he makes a point of drawing himself up to his full height (a humble but not too tiny 5'8") and staring the other two down.
"'S there some kind of problem here?" He asks, like he has anything to back up that stern tone with. "'Cause it's too cold, and I figure most of us're too tired, for a fight."