Griffith could only smile wider.  “I most certainly do, Scout.”  He turned to the smaller man to take the proffered fish, only to see Scout’s horrified expression.  He followed Scout’s gaze to the positively giant wasp that had crawled onto his hand.  Griffith wasn’t exactly a biologist, but he knew a few things about this one.  [i]Cicada Hawk.[/i]  “If it hasn’t already stung you,” Griffith near-whispered, “then it’s not an aggressive one.  Just keep your hand still, and don’t make any loud noises, and it won’t do anything.”  While true, he didn’t exactly trust this group to be particularly quiet for a much longer stretch than this, and it was obvious by this point that Scout was terrified of the bug.

Griffith brought his hand, palm down, on top of Scout’s in the wasp’s path.  When it crawled its way onto his own hand, Griffith slowly moved it away from Scout and closer to the fire.  [i]Now we play the waiting game.[/i]  Ideally, the heat would convince it to fly away on its own.  His nearby friends would probably spook it before that happened, but he wasn’t worried.  He knew this wasp wasn’t poisonous, and its sting could hardly hurt worse than a sword to the ribs.  Griffith chuckled internally at the memory.  [i]John sure was on the ball that day.  Padding or no, that hurt.  I’ll make sure to get him back for that after we get back into town.[/i]