Paranoid Parrot Campfire, Saturday Afternoon

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Simon didn't mind the cold. Being a pale Englishman, he actually much preferred it to the summer heat he knew they should have been having on the island. And it wasn't just that: the cold also cleared his head. Which really needed clearing, after he'd spent half the day trying to calculate just how much slower time was going back where he was from. It seemed that even though he made calls to England at regular intervals, every time less and less time had passed over there between his calls.

It was a little troubling. He tried telling himself that at least it was probably better this way around: had time been going faster there, he would've run the risk of missing something important. This way, he'd have more time to react to whatever might happen. He could be there in an instant, from their point of view.

That's what he kept telling himself to stop worrying. But, he needed distractions. So he was out. Roasting marshmallows. Occasionally chewing on his lip as he got lost in his thoughts without meaning to.

He'd burned a few marshmallows that way, too.

[ooc: Open!]