<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ab/3d/be/ab3dbe6d89c729a2507abe4a6d78f2d8.jpg)<br/><div align="center">Lucas</div></div><br/>"Don't eat too much though. If you eat more than your body needs, it makes you incredibly thirsty,"<br/><br/>Lucas barked a laugh. "Smile when you say that, Captain." He was reasonably sure she'd gotten the joke and not been offended at least. Even if he didn't quite get a smile. "But yeah, I guess I haven't seen real junk food in a long time." He stared at the stash of food with a dopey grin before shrugging and refocusing on his slowly cooking frog. A wave of nostgalia hit him and he stared into the fire until Jim returned.<br/><br/>"Oh, good call on the anchor. It's that or someone's gotta stay up and poke the banks with a pole all night." Lucas got to his feet shakily, leaning over to offer his frog-on-a-stick to Arlene. "Hold this a minute, Arlene?" He said, setting the stick resting against something to keep the frog off the deck if she declined. He undid his boots and took them and his socks off, setting the boots upside-down near the fire to dry out throughly. Hopefully. He slowly ate another cracker as he listened to the other two speak about grouping up.<br/><br/>Turning around, Lucas undid his pants and pulled them down. The last couple of years hadn't exactly left much shyness in him, but it seemed a little more polite. His muscles quivered under his skin as another shiver ran through him. He'd considered leaving the clothes until the morning, both to impose less and not risk getting them damp with sweat or anything, but with a sigh he realised he was going to need the layers to work the chill out of himself. He bent over to pat down his legs, getting most of the remaining water off as he spoke.<br/><br/>"Way I see it, the crawlers hate us. Mother nature doesn't give a shit about us. People and luck are the only things on our side. And we can't do shit about luck." He stretched with a grunt, pulling the cargo pants on. "Though that's just an argument for the pragmatic types. I say help people because it sucks not to. Only a few kinds of assholes out there  not worth helping. And if folks are strangers, it's pretty hard to know if they are lying bastards trying to kill you. So yeah." He pulled the shirt on, and puffed up his cheeks in mock-annoyance at the loose fit on his smaller frame. "I'd rather die as the kind of person I'd buy a beer, than live as the kind of guy I'd push off the ship. That acceptable, Jim? Cap'n Arlene?" He stuck his tongue out at Arlene, possibly defusing any deference the title would suggest.