The small red tiller idling loudly behind him, he takes a short, irritated click of his tongue and aggressively yanks the brim of his straw hat down to shadow his eyes. He crosses his arms, looking completely unbothered, though his gaze silently locks onto how pale and exhausted you look. "Back up," he says flatly, his crisp, standard Seoul dialect cutting right through the noisy engine chug. "There's a clearing three hundred meters back. Pull into it,I can't reverse.. "