[In-person: Patrick/Newt]
[As promised, Patrick did not move.
It was midday, and he was seated against a thick tree at the second fork beyond the lookout. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt beneath his brown ranger shirt. His knees were against his chest, and his feet were planted wide in dead leaves with rugged brown boots. His blond hair was most messy from agitated hands, and his ears were perfectly rounded and visible, missing their pointed tips.
In his hand, the chron was held in a tightly balled fist.]