[Climbing: Patrick & Newt]
The guy considered using the stones to head back home. There, he had belays chiseled into the mountains behind his house, and he would use them to climb and often. It was a most useful way for the guy to relax, and he enjoyed the forest around him and the sounds of the animals. But, at present, going home would only make him stress about the stones Con was attempting to reproduce. His own stones were blue, seeking stones, and they could only do true offensive damage to other magical/non-human beings. But, if, somehow, Con managed to produce any of the other stones, then that might not be the case. He wasn't even sure how this would work, and his brain was not built like Con's; he was not smart, man, so maybe there was a way to do this that he did not comprehend. Whatever the way or the reason, it made him not want to go home. He felt, weirdly, like all of this was some betrayal to his people, and this was the last thing the dude needed on top of everything else he was currently feeling.
So, after some consideration, he decided on a place he had recently discovered. It was not local; no one he knew went that far west. They would need to use the stones to get there, but this was no hardship. The dude felt sluggish, but alert, and he was not worried about using his magic.
He dressed comfortably, in soft pants and a shirt that allowed for a tank top beneath. His shoes were gripped and good for climbing, and he set an equally comfortable pair of pants and a shirt out for Newt, fully expecting the dude to ignore the clothing items on the bed. He wasn't sure what size shoe the dude wore, but he set out socks and sneakers with good tread, just in case, and then he stepped outside the house on the river and inhaled. His bag, which he set beside his feet, had a few sets of climbing gloves, harnesses, and some belays,
Dude was stressed. This was true, and there was no way to even pretend this was not the case. It was present in the way he stood, the tension in his shoulders and spread-knee stance. But, man, it was all right. It would all be all right. He had to believe this, and he had not asked where the gun was hidden, and this had to be proof of something positive, did it not? He would sweat and exhaust himself, and maybe he would get a chance to laugh at Newt's claim that he possessed physical prowess, and he would feel better. No one knew him where they were going, and today that felt like the best thing about the place. Even back home, in those mossy mountains, the people knew him.
Where they were going, he was nobody. Not Con's baby bro. Not Webster's dumb kid. Not that blond cop. Not that single Ranger. None of that, man. He was just a dude visiting a rock wall. It felt like a good idea.