How did Joey stand that taste? Andrew felt like scooping up a mouthful of dirt just to get it out. Maybe it was an acquired taste, but there was no way he'd be able to handle it. Or if so, he wasn't sure water would help it. He shook his head, creeping a bit closer and pulling the bedroll with him, keeping his back as straight as he could. It'd be hard to ride---the gait of the horse would jar his back, but it wouldn't be impossible. "I t-think I'll just ride out the pain..." He muttered, sitting closer to the fire as Joey ordered. He raised his head, trying to gather his hair but finding the movement of his arms too much stretch on his back. So he sighed and let it hang loose. At least it was clean and combed now. Those men had loved his hair the most, apparently.

Andrew looked up. It seemed a bit safe to look longer at Joey now. He couldn't help it---the guy was... like one of those Greek or Roman gods he'd read about. And with hair like a native. Like Andrew's. He didn't realize he was smiling like an idiot.