Orion just watched the others as they descended from their lofty perch and contemplation. He tongued the back of his teeth thoughtfully.

"Sure thing, Batty," he replied to what he rather sapiecentrically thought of as an empty room.

Following behind, the black sheepdog that he was, he watched his footing on the strangely twisting, interwoven branches that served for a stair. The mention of his name snapped his head up. There seemed to be a tension in the room. He scanned faces and body language for meaning. Then he thought better of it. This was not his scene. It would work itself out or not. He listened to Danny. Mister Reasonable. The rest of them were still the Greeks to Orion. He couldn't make much of their hide or their hair. But that would work itself out. Or not. He looked over at August. He really didn't have a handle on any of this really. Thing were not smooth. Why weren't they smooth. He frowned at the thermos in her hands. Something clicked in Orion's brain. Smiling self-congratulatory, he reached over the redhead and plucked the thermos from her hands. Taking a sip he hummed appreciatively. Walking over with the container close to his face, warm steam on his chin he maneuvered through the entangled group. The tension had drawn the walls in. Slipping between Jackson and Konoa he placed a hand on the former's shoulder in what he hoped was a solid, reassuring way. It would work itself out. He smiled at Mary as he wiggled around her to the far wall. She seemed to have her blood up. He reached his pack. 

Placing the thermos down on the dirt carefully. He rummaged through his tightly packed bag. Of course they were near the bottom. Reaching past the rest of his belongings he plunged his hand deep into the bottom of the canvas pack. Finally, and with as much flourish as possible he retrieved the objects of his quest. Thick, woolen mittens covered in vaguely Native American-esque knitting patterns whipped through the earthy air. Orion picked up the thermos with his other hand and reversed his trek. Patting Konoa this time he smiled at Max. He had no idea what was up with Max, but it would probably work itself out.

Finally returning to August he proffered the mittens to her.

"Here. They're new." He looked at her expectantly pleased. Like a dog; a sheepdog.