"Squirrels," Jean said decidedly, noting Locke's distress and rambling on to keep him from thinking about their current plight overly much. "Those furry little bastards seem to be rather adept. But truly, you doubt my talents? After all that time spent balancing on the edge of a true cliff in service to the Lady Most Kind with nary a perilous fall in sight, save the one with plenty of climbing rope attached? I am well and truly disappointed."
Despite his more solid figure and the added pull of gravity from his stocky frame and musculature, Jean did an admirable job of hauling himself up into the tree's upper branches like his life depended upon it. Which, it very plausibly may have. While the creatures howled in what he hoped was disappointment beneath him (rather than, oh, say, a battle cry), he situated himself onto a branch, wedging tightly against the trunk as he balanced calmly atop the snowy limb.
"It is fucking freezing out here," he said placidly as he offered Locke a hand to help him up onto his branch. "Had I known my next destination was the arctic tundra, I would have dressed rather more warmly."