[ the insult immediately earns quentin flipping him the bird with both hands, but he doesn't otherwise address it. he feels fucking off, and he just wants to get through this so once it's over he can put as much distance between them again as possible. ]

Jesus, [ he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. ] Just because I don't go camping doesn't mean I'm clueless. [ instead of trying to create a wall with the detritus of the cabin, he just stretches a tk shield behind them from wall to wall, then from ceiling to floor, taking a moment to add it to the divided off section of his brain running the smaller shields plugging holes in the cabin. with the larger one holding them in about a third of the space, he takes focus away from the little shields outside their part of the cabin. it lets the draft back in the rest of the small building, but since they're not using it right now anyway, it's fine. ]

I can run this-- [ he points to the pink barrier behind them, planting his other hand on his hip. ] --in the background while I sleep. [ it won't be particularly restful sleep, but anything's better than nothing. ]