Aye. [ he wipes his palms on his trousers -- they were grimey with sweat and sawdust -- and reached for the glass with his best approximation of a clean hand. ] A moment or two, mayhaps. A few gulps and then...

[ he casts a look back at what remained. a few unweildly branches he could cut a bit smaller and then haul to the treeline. but he'd piled some of the straighter pieces in a neat little heap. sharpe nods to them now. ]

That mess, there -- Adele? I don't suppose you'd mind if I took it with me. For building, like.