"Yeah, no fucking kidding," he agrees, swiping a wrist over his brow. Never appreciated the weather back home—what had been home—so much until now. They haven't been out here very long, but already his shaggy bangs are sticking to his forehead with sweat. Still, he grins as he says it. It's his past that's led him to this point. Spurred him on in with a singleminded (obsessive) and breakneck trajectory. They've got a chance to strike back at the kaiju with their own hands, to give as good as they'd gotten in the past seven years, to make them pay for it in their own blood. Damn straight he's eager.

He does, however, seem to stop take a deep breath. Only to open his mouth again.

"We're on our way to becoming Rangers," he says, immediate and energetic. He tears his gaze away from the scenery flashing past the window to look the guy beside him square in the eye. "There's no way I'm letting anything stop me now."

Definitely not a thing as inconsequential as the weather.