Harry smiled, rather creepily might I add, as he took the supplies from Quinn. While she moved on to the next person, he looked at her behind only to turn away a moment later. Wouldn't be good to get punched by Booker on the first day of the trip, especially considering that a black eye could demolish his already low chance to get a girl. He stuck a marshmallow on the roasting stick, then stuck it near the fire, rotating it to toast it evenly on all sides (do marshmallows have sides? Hell if I know). As he did this, he looked at the other members of the group. "So, there anything to do here other than sit around?" Strangely, although he was born in Chicago and never left, his voice had a hint of cockney in it.