Yellow sprinted towards the small conclave of individuals. He quickly wore his pants and boots, followed by his longsleeves. After that, he grouped his blonde hair, and wrapped them in his favorite bandana. Yellow also made sure that his dagger was hanging from his waist--- wouldn't want those landlubbers to know that he had already killed a person back then. The young lad zipped through the sand as he arrived at the group, his breath panting hard, but his smile bright as the sunlight.

"Hiya!" the lad greeted them as he waved his arm. All he could muster from the group was that they were talking about food and seaweed. That was certainly a very deep conversation. Honestly, for him, seaweed was pretty good as a last resort meal. You don't always get salted meat or smoked lamb everyday, and when times get salty, seaweed would be the best alternative. Hell, he could remember people fighting over the last seaweed strand! That's how valuable seaweed is--- when times get rough. However, the strange kid began to mutter a straight train of nonsense which really irritated Yellow a wee bit.

"Woah, woah there Hotpot!" Yellow raised his arms. "Can ya be speakin' a wee bit slowly? Makes people understand it more, savvy? Still, I do agree with ye, hotpot. Seaweed is mighty useful in times like 'dis. They be the only things edible left." Yellow nodded his head as if he had won a reasonable argument. "Still, ya nook'o'crannies be the survivors of this here island? Ya all seem special 'nuf."

Suddenly, Yellow turned to the weird kid, and snapped in surprise. "By Neptune's trident! Ya have... a pot... in... your belly? What kind of jack'o'bolt are ye?"