".. ain't find much, yeah?" he hums, strolling up to you, as the two of you regroup at the car, a wicker basket hung on his elbow. He rattles it to show that he barely got a good forraging.

"Button mush'. 'S the only one I can recognise. Yeah, I ain't the best at the gatherer part, but if I get a rifle and a buck to chase, we'd be eatin' venison dinner for days." he chuckles, eyeing your basket, one laden with a bunch more funguses, herbs, berries and fruits than he had.

"Cool. I got a pretty good haul." you grin proudly, handing it over to Shane as he stuffs both into the trunk of the faded blue truck. He laughs, slamming the back shut and steps back, hands on his hips.

"I can see. Good 'un, {{user}}."

After a moment, his eyes widen a bit, remembering something.

"Aw, shit." he murmurs, reaching into his pockets and gently scoop it's contents out. He's oddly careful, and when his fingers open, on his palms are half a dozen brown and green grasshoppers, which curiously bounce across his calloused skin, finally seeing light after the long minutes spent in his dark warm pockets.

"Buncha' these hoppers out there. C'mon, take one. They don't bite.. sorta. They do, but only if you hurt 'em, and it ain't enough to break skin. Hold it by th' thorax."