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R.J. dusted himself off, something of a futile gesture considering what a mess he'd become over the past four days anyway. As he stood, Mary-Ann ruffled his hair a bit, asking if he was okay. She would prove to be much better at stifling laughter than he would, but then, he wasn't really trying to, openly wheezing out a chuckle as he offered a thumbs up to indicate that, yes, he was fine. Gently extracting the gun from her hand, he let her say her piece, and as she spoke, calmly demonstrated proper trigger discipline to her, before flipping the damn safety on, you retard. Really, he should have been making a habit of it if he was going to leave the damn thing where she could get a hold of it.

He then held the gun out, figuring if she wanted to give it a look, it was fine, so long as she was careful.

"Um, did you get anything? Like, foodwise?"

Well, of course he did. Him big man, kill deer with thunder stick, remember? He gestured toward the still-warm carcass, which sat about a foot from the campfire. If anything, they sure as hell wouldn't be hungry tonight.
<Mimi>: You are much nicer than I thought you'd be!
<Stark>: Shut up, fatty.
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They're Made Out Of Meat · The Felled Forest: North