"Can you maybe, stop saying that word? It's getting a little irritating," Milo mumbled the words, "But yes, I got it all." He ended his little rant with a short laugh, kicking at a random bit of wood as if it were a soccer ball (the only sport he highly missed, at that). No rest, no stopping. They were going to some trees? That was the big move? Great. Well, at least it was doing something, rather than sitting about wondering why the hell it is the way it is (the world).
Milo curled his toes, looking down upon them. His socks were long gone, and he never came with shoes, not that he had much of a choice. Barefoot was great, so he didn't mind that. His shirt, however, was still with him, just in case he really needed to throw it on. He felt overly comfortable without it, having it just thrown over a shoulder, his head, or shoved in the back of his pajama pants to hang there.
Briefly he thought of his father, and how he would kill Milo if he saw the way he was living. Like a god damn animal, a feral child, a wild child. And with that, Milo grinned to himself, looking over then at Clay, finally, to greet him. At first he said nothing, taking in the others features and whatnot, before nodding a small hello to him, his gaze throwing itself back to Payne, waiting to follow.