Sam checked his PDA, which definitely had the same message. "Good," he muttered. "Really what I wanted to do today."
Every joint felt like it was rusted stiff when he sat up. Not only did he feel a bit hung over, but it was obvious he'd slept there. And now, the unknown being wanted him to swing a pickaxe? It almost seemed worth it to get this unknown punishment, except he had to survive to get back to his life.
Finally on his feet, Sam swaggered over to the pickaxes and hefted one up on his shoulder. "We doing this?" he genuinely asked, most of him hoping that the answer was 'no'.