Nathan made a face. Tristan had a fair point there about the water... unless you stole the bottled stuff from the supermarket...

He chuckled at Tristan's "Oh come oooon!" and the head shaking and watched what the Irishman was doing, sure he could learn a thing or two from him, but man, it was a slow process and Nate was starting to get impatient at all the faffing about trying to work out how to pitch the bloody tent. He started shifting from one foot to the other like a small child who desperately needed the loo and he scrunched up his face, cracking the paint in the process. “You did this a lot when you were playing Tarzan?” He asked his bro with his eyebrows raised. Hats off to the man for having the patience.

He was grateful when Tristan took the poles from him and he stepped away from the tent. He looked at Arjuna and made a face when Tristan said there was no water. “Yep. We need to get this paint off before it corrodes our skin.” He joked deadpan as he picked at a patch of blue paint on his chest. “And we need a lookout if you're up for it.” He grinned at the woman.

The tent pitching was irritating him. Why oh why couldn't they use magic? There were no muggles around. A naughty schoolboy smirk curled up his lips and he took a shifty look around. Another wink at Arjuna whom he knew was watching and he drew his wand. He gave his wand a quick flick at the half erected tent and it blew up like a umbrella. Perfectly pitched and pegged into the hard ground so it wouldn't blow away come any unexpected gusts of wind. He pocketed his wand and began to whistle nonchalantly as he dug in his bag for the kettle. “Now. Who's for tea?” He asked his Prophet colleagues.

Damnit! They needed water for that... He slapped his forehead and groaned.