It's not often that Jake hears English anymore, except when he pays Hell's Gate a visit. It's not as though he's speaking it now either, his own mastery of Na'vi having grown in leaps and bounds from years of immersion to the point where he sometimes forgets he ever knew otherwise. The Nexus is handily covering for his lapse, the translation field active this deep even if the antiviolence field is weak. He tilts his head a little, unable to place the accent but recognizing that it's an Earth one.

"Well this didn't fall out of the sky," he jokes, waving vaguely toward the roasting meat. It's pretty much impossible to identify what creature it was before, but it was substantially sized, more than enough to share despite Jake's much larger size. He turns the skewers, then reaches for the arrows, scooping up a fistful of snow to rub the arrowheads clean one at a time. "I've hunted here before, but it's different every time. Easy to get lost. Or get hunted back."