"Was planning on camping back in the cave." Roland responds to the man's enthusiasm by, wonder of wonders, actually turning one corner of his mouth up for a second. The idea of doing anything other than this, of not spending dinner alone, is enough to penetrate even this grey mood, at least a little. He stands, looking around, and heads to scoop up the other downed birds. "I'd settle for a place the hell away from here. Not going back across that river any time soon."

He glances at the flock overhead, which is beginning to settle as their panic dies down, and his steps get longer, taking him away from the birds at speed. With luck, the things will remember and avoid him for a little while. "If you'll allow the use of your knives to do it I'll prepare those birds. If they're safe to eat, of course." The words are absent, his attention elsewhere. He rubs a hand over his chest, feeling the comforting solidity of the necklace under his shirt, and lets out a sigh before he realizes he's done it. These arenas are a pain in the ass.