"Get your eyes checked, Kosta!" Jean retorted, a smirk threatening to turn into a full-blown grin at Locke's ridiculous greeting. If the man had enough spirit to insult his looks, intelligence and physical capabilities, then his former garrista probably wasn't in one of his world-class sulks yet, which was best for all concerned. "I am a delicate, beautiful flow- oh, fuck."
The chase from the Weevils was a rather low-speed affair, considering how Jean had to hike his knees up nigh to his chin with every stride, and the creatures similarly didn't seem to be faring well in the cold (thank the gods for small favors). All the same, they didn't seem to be giving up, and his hasty apologies for disturbing their slumber weren't sinking into their thick, malformed skulls. As soon as he caught up to Locke, Jean flashed him a crooked grin, for all the world looking indifferent to the trail of creatures lagging a few feet behind him now that he was reunited with his friend.
"I've always been partial to trees. Like a bird, me. That particular specimen just there looks promising," he said, nodding subtly toward a large, sturdy-looking member of the spruce family that wasn't completely covered with ice just ahead of them. As soon as they reached the base of the trunk, they would scramble up as far as they could and hope like hell that the creatures couldn't fly.