"I see you are dead set on denying me all my dignity," Jean sniffed. "I'm far too hairy to be one of those creatures of which you speak." In truth, he wasn't all that furry anymore--Ezri had insisted on tempering his dark Camorri body hair and keeping it trimmed--and in some cases, shorn off altogether. She had said that it allowed her more room and more comfort when resting her head on his chest after coital bliss, and Jean had readily complied with anything that brought Ezri more happiness, and him more time with the ship's second. That was, of course, neither here nor there, and the climbing for their lives bit was so old by now that it was hardly worth making a fuss over at this late date. "My old creaky bones are as functional as they ever were, ye of little faith. Or do you also doubt my ability to protect you?"
He cast a quick side glance at Locke, judging his mood to be slightly less foul than boiling point, and hauled him up easily, watching with some curiosity as Locke wiggled on the branch in order to present him with a pack. And then Jean's eyebrows shot up so far that they vied for a permanent place in his hairline. "There truly is a first time for everything," he muttered, carefully pulling out the upper layers, which he could slip on over his current shirt without much difficulty. It was the pants that were going to be problematic. Although his thanks wasn't verbalized, it was noted in the way his chattering teeth quieted a bit after he pulled on the warm jacket.