Clemente
If Clem had any air to lose it would be forced from his chest in a hilarious strangled noise, but luckily he's spared the shame as Nate's seatbelt-arm nearly knocks him off his feet. At least he doesn't end up broiled like a spring chicken. The gratitude clearly shows on his face as he stumbles and looks at Nate, checking over the man for any injury before he realizes he has no idea where Amun is.
Nate seems to have a better idea if the way he calls out is any indication, but it's not exactly comforting when he asks if Amun is okay. It's second nature to jog behind Nate, tailing him like a particularly stubborn sticker you get from kindergarten that never fully scrub away. Safety in numbers and all that. "Y'didn't get cooked did ya?" His voice rises next to Nate's, though concern still curls in his chest as they await an answer.
Nate seems to have a better idea if the way he calls out is any indication, but it's not exactly comforting when he asks if Amun is okay. It's second nature to jog behind Nate, tailing him like a particularly stubborn sticker you get from kindergarten that never fully scrub away. Safety in numbers and all that. "Y'didn't get cooked did ya?" His voice rises next to Nate's, though concern still curls in his chest as they await an answer.
