"I'll take breeze," Poe agreed, turning with a nod toward the downward-sloping path. This place was full of the sort of people who seemed to have the kinds of instincts he'd been only briefly drilled in during operational training - and which frankly showed up a lot more frequently in spy holos and gritty stories about smugglers - don't let anyone walk behind you, sit in the corner of the seedy cantina, recognize people by the scent of their cigarra smoke, all that kind of stuff. He wasn't one of them, although he'd probably have been better at his job if he had been. The only reason he glanced over his shoulder was to make sure he could walk, if she wanted to follow. "I'd take sunlight, too, but I guess it's time to manage expectations."
And even in his wide range of travel experience, you didn't usually find the sun by going down. But - quite literally - stranger things had happened. "Who's your partner?" he asked, as they worked their way slowly down the decline. He was in no rush; what lay on the other side of their explorations was no guaranteed advantage, and cracking his head on a rock would serve no one. "And did you - you know, don't take this the wrong way, but - you didn't cut anyone's finger off the other day, did you? I haven't been able to keep track of what's been going on, really. I've kind of been holed up."
Like her, by the look of it. It was how he intended to stay, until times such as these, when necessity required that he search for sustenance. He was inclined to trust people doing the same, more than the ones apparently on the prowl. "It's just, a friend of mine is short a digit. I'm Poe. It's -" He slid forward on one boot, nearly tumbling onto his back; but he caught himself, and straightened up with little more than a stinging palm. "Slippery. Careful."