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[waniandmoon]

Vincent is stumbling uselessly through the foliage, his carry-on still hanging from his shoulder, his damp wool jacket slung over the top of it. He's trying not to think too hard, too long about the situation, which is unusual and unfamiliar and distracts him from considering more practical things like marking his path as he fights his way through the greenery. He just needs some sort of makeshift shelter, some fresh water, and he'll be fine until rescue comes. Right? That's how it works, isn't it?

He hasn't seen anyone else yet, since leaving the plane, and he tries not to think too hard about that.

Instead he continues to walk, ignoring the heat and the mounting sense of despair in the back of his mind.

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[waniandmoon]

Tig. Must be short for something, but what he can't figure out right away. Or a nickname? Well, if she wanted to explain further, she would.

"I'm Vincent," he replies. He pushes some ferns out of the way, pauses to look for the next marked tree. "They'll be sending rescue along soon though, I'd imagine." He had already assumed that; it might take a few days, but they would be rescued soon. He was just happy that he was alive.

[agirlandhergun]

"Good to meet you, Vincent," comes the response. A full name is a little poncy for their surroundings, but whatever, if he wants to be Vincent, Tegan will give him a little dose of comfort - at least until she forgets. "I don't know that I'd expect too much in the way of rescue," she comments, and her mind turns to the potential consequences if they are. Tegan doesn't really want to be in the hands of the authorities for any reason, especially not identification. She hasn't got her fake passport anymore. Could get tricky.

She tilts her head upwards, a whiff of woodsmoke tickling her nose. "Fire," she says, perhaps unnecessarily. "Guess that means we're closing in."

[waniandmoon]

He blinks, pausing at her at the pronouncement that she isn't expecting rescue. He wants to ask why she thinks that -- if nothing else, it will be noticed when their flight doesn't arrive in Sydney -- but decides against it. No point in starting up arguments already.

It's a relief, anyways, to have some hint that they're approaching a destination, that they aren't being lead on a wild goose chase somehow. He picks up his pace a bit. "I wonder how many of us there are..."

[agirlandhergun]

"I'd say at least one," Tegan quips, dryly, and then wishes she hadn't. Her throat is parched, so the harder edge to her voice hurts it. She's looking forward to finding water. Onward they trek - surely it can't be far. This kind of jungle foliage doesn't grow well far from the source. Maybe the island gets a lot of rain, she thinks.

"Where you from, Vincent?" Better to talk a little, Tegan supposes. She needs to suss out these guys quickly.

[waniandmoon]

"Hopefully more than one." He's having trouble being optimistic about the situation but the least he can do it hope that the majority made it through alright. There was strength in numbers, and maybe someone would have more knowledge about making it until rescue came.

If rescue came, he supposed.

"Toronto. Canada," he replies. He resists explaining that he shouldn't be here at all, or why he's carrying a wool coat. She probably isn't interested, and there are more pressing matters than him complaining about his poor luck. "And yourself?"

[agirlandhergun]

His point of origin explains the odd choice of clothing, and Tegan gives him another once over before she replies. He's going to suffer in those things, poor sod, but at the very least he'll have a decent pillow to rest his head on tonight. "London," she says, not bothering to list the country afterwards. Everyone knows where London is. "So at the very least, the weather's an improvement." She laughs, somehow cheerful enough to do so. She's still alive, she has enough of her kit together that she knows she can cut down some fruit or kill some mammals, and if she's hungry enough to be desperate, she can fish, and if worst comes to worst, Vincent is probably edible in parts. She's been in worse situations, far worse than this.

"Look," she says, the word interrupting her chuckle. Beyond the end of her finger, the trees give way to an opening and the silhouettes of a few people beyond. "Looks like we're through."

[waniandmoon]

He manages a weak smile, but if he knew what she was thinking -- well, mostly the cannibalistic part -- he wouldn't be able to manage even that. He wouldn't doubt that she could cut him into pieces for her dinner if she made up her mind to do so.

His smile grows more genuine the sight of the camp. "Thank goodness." It's a relief, even if just a small one. Water and a fire. They can make it for a few days that way, at least. Until help arrives.

"Thank you," he adds, a bit belatedly. He never would've known what to look for and would probably still be wandering aimlessly if not for her help.

[agirlandhergun]

Without thinking, the motley air hostess claps him lightly on the shoulder. "The only way is up," she says, in place of a more traditional 'you're welcome' or whatever other tripe customarily said. With that, Tegan takes herself through the trees to the dubious campsite beyond.

[waniandmoon]

Vincent nods, a little thrown off by her reply, but not about to comment on it. Different cultures, after all. Instead, he follows her, into the campsite.