Crimson maintained his relative quiet, occasionally only speaking up to put the kibosh on someone who said or did something idiotic.  Or egotistical. He could not abide those who shot their mouthes off faster than their guns.<br/><br/>When the inclement weather began to dawn on them, he would reach into one of his saddle bags, and take out some goggles; they're the kind of thing one might expect a motorcycle driver to use, if such an invention ever existed on Filgaia. It kept his eyes safe, though he was still pretty damn blinded.<br/><br/>Additionally, he covered the rest of his face with a bandanna, which protected his nose and mouth, so he did not have to worry about inhaling a lungful of dust.  He liked to think of himself as being pretty much prepared for just about anything, though there was surely something out there that he would be ill-prepared for.<br/><br/>As they began to set up camp, Crimson seemed only to care about his own needs, and protecting and feeding, and watering his horse This time, it was not just a mere sleeping bag he deployed, but a small tent, as well. His horse seemed to, quite wisely, position himself around the tent in such a way that the tent provided a decent amount of protection from the sand storm.<br/><br/>"I'll volunteer for first watch. I<strong>suggest</strong>their be four watchmen, in each of two shifts, Amos." He would say to the man once he was prepared. "Two watchin' the way forward, two watchin' the way we came."