Shino pulled the door shut behind him as he raced back out of the poor merchant's shop he'd invaded at the end of the narrow, cobblestone alley he'd been chased down. A frustrated, resigned roar came from inside as he braced himself against the door, both hands locked around the pull-ring and his foot up on the wall in an effort to keep it closed.

"Just stay in there —" He grimaced, looking around for anyone in earshot. "Hey! Any suggestions on dealing with a scared bear?"

Killing it just seemed an extreme response for dealing with a scared performance animal. He'd still do it, but it was worth trying to find another way first.

[ For a young man who'd grown up in environments kept as close to sterile as possible, the amount of dust and cobwebs (and, shuddering, the bugs that implies) he finds tucked into corners at Skyhold have him twitching. He's not used to needing to be on-call, at hand, and ready to move out on the orders of others like he is here, but he can choose to respect that. He chooses to, because he needs to survive long enough to get home. He can't die here, and he will not be allowed to do anything less than cooperate.

Which may or may not be evident when he looks up from where he's been scrubbing the stone floors of this passageway on his hands and knees. Meeting the eyes of whoever's coming, he holds up a hand, calling out in a commanding voice: ]

Stop!

[ Why is no one civilized enough to take off their shoes when inside around here? ]

Please refrain from tracking any new mud through this coordior, thank you.

Shino didn't mind camping. Yes, he disliked sleeping on the ground, how dirty everything was, and the high probability of bugs, but that didn't mean he minded camping. Muttering under his breath and grunting in consternation as the tent he was tasked with setting up failed to hold steady wasn't complaining. As long as no one listened too closely.

Regardless, he didn't mind camping. With his tent was set to rights, his pack tucked inside, and his boots pried off while he sat next to the tiny, smokeless fire and ate what he uncharitably thought of as sawdust cakes, he was fine. He wasn't frowning, or a step away from sulking, and definitely, he wasn't looking like a wilted flower. At least in his mind he was none of these things. To anyone else, his longsuffering sighs and the wrinkle of his nose when eating travel rations was a better indication of how he wasn't used to this kind of travel. Or living.

He'd taken another swallow of tepid water out of his leather canteen when it happened: Shino Inuzuka glanced down to his left and spotted one of the biggest horrors in his life.

A bug.

A big, black, horned bug, fluttering its wings, skittering on three sets of jointed limbs.

Shino Inuzuka, eighteen years old and used to a certain necessity of murder and dealing with spirits and demons, dropped his canteen, what remained of his meal, and shrieked as he launched himself at whoever was nearby and tried to climb them in tears over this horrendous event.

"No! Don't touch me!"

[ Hit me up! I'll tag back in the same style as you tag in, so feel free to do as you prefer. ]