ＣＡＭＰＦＩＲＥ

[It's kind of weird, perhaps, for a guy like Vincent to crave the open wilderness as much as he does. He's a man of the city, having gone through his teenage years and adulthood frequenting bars and underground markets, cramped with people and echoes ringing against the walls. Confinement, maybe, though he's always just focused on action. Of all sorts. Very little silence, desperate paces.

Vincent could wander the fells from dawn to dusk, however. With ease.

He doesn't look at Claude, throwing a stray twig onto the fire. Sparkles fly. Pretty.]

Let's stay, then. [He smirks.] Fuck everyone else.