"Come on, you coward. Don't you want my parachute? Come and get it. If you don't come, I'm leaving."
Noland Lee tilted his head back slightly, intoxicated by the scent of grass in the wind:
"Sniff~~ I love this smell. Since I arrived in the Suffering Borderland, I haven't been in touch with the green nature. Are you sure you don't want to take a sniff? Greenshaw."
Noland continued moving back, his gaze scanning the wall in search of corrosion marks, trying to tell which ones were caused by the wind and which ones were due to the undead poisonous fog.
When the fringe-like corrosion patterns on the wall disappeared and turned into a mottled pattern of elongated wind-eroded craters, Noland stopped walking slowly.
He glanced at the outlet behind him and estimated the distance from himself to that point.
Looking back at Greenshaw, the mockery in Noland's smile grew thicker:
"You really are a coward, Greenshaw. Come on, hit me, beat me up, or I'll be leaving."
