[A low, gravelly rasp of sound scrapes in the back of their throat - the aftermath of a coughing fit, or possibly a simple acknowledgment of their pronouncement. The Drifter's head ducks in a solemn nod.]
ok.
[They set off without another word, picking a direction and committing to it without undue hesitation. Their illness is secondary to any progress that can be made, it seems, and it doesn't occur to them that someone else would have difficulty in keeping up.]
no subject
ok.
[They set off without another word, picking a direction and committing to it without undue hesitation. Their illness is secondary to any progress that can be made, it seems, and it doesn't occur to them that someone else would have difficulty in keeping up.]