"Easier without gloves and rain and mud." He muttered, sitting back on his heels to let her work. He had had it with attempting to force this thing into it's proper shape, having struggled with it for roughly a quarter of an hour already. Camping was not something he did much of in the past and even back during the Blight- Alistair handled the tent, he handled dinner.

Voluntarily.

Alistair's cooking didn't go so well for anyone involved.

"Such playful antics. It reminds me a little of similar things my fellow Crows and I would get up to- though they often involved more poison and less whacking with sticks."