[To be fair, the rumor mill is really lacking in grist. It's easy for the rabble to latch onto the social pariah strictly because he still doesn't make sense to a lot of them, a "consultant" that rarely speaks unless spoken to, whose thirst for lonely dives into shadowy spaces in the crypts exceeds normal levels of healthy recreation.

It's been easy to follow orders, easier than it's ever been when all he needs is a direction and a sturdy rope (although the latter he could do without if his fellow climbers insist on being incompetent walnuts). At least Rafe is pleased to see him, although the reaction alone is likely because he managed to survive a forty foot drop with hair-trigger reflexes.

Nate lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.]

Nothing busted. Been banged up worse falling from shorter heights. I told you last week - you get a stationary rig instead of a belayer, I'll get those catacombs scoured a Hell of a lot faster. Not for nothing, but I'm kind of amazing at free solo climbing.