[attr="class","sinbody2"]Brazen, wasn't she? It was a word his mother used to use to describe him... Before she snapped the figurative backbone and formed him exactly like she wanted him to be. Had it not been so wonderfully warm out, he would've shivered. What was with this planet and constantly remembering that hag? Maybe cryo really had fried his brain. Whatever; as long as he could still sing.

"Almost. Key word there," he said pointedly, lips still tilted in that boyish way. At her question, he looked down (up?) at himself, mildly contorted. "I don't do anything that makes me feel uncomfortable," LIE, "so no," he retorted lightly, though he considered hopping down for both of their benefits. Hanging upside down without movement was making all his blood rush to his head, and it was causing things to look a little distorted. Except when he dropped his head to look at the girl again, he was 99% certain she was actually all up in his grill. He swayed backwards in his surprise, nearly knocking into her on the return. "Jesus, woman," he scorned, though he never put heat behind words directed at a lady. It was one of his tells, but not a single human being had picked up on it yet. Thank God.

"Back up, let me get down." He did one more crunch (and made a mental note to return later to finish the set) so he could grip the branch with his hands and swing himself down. It took a few seconds to regain his balance, but with a shake of his head he managed to only stumble a step... or two. If he was really as confident as he portrayed, he would've shaken her hand right then; but it felt weird being mostly naked in front of a woman when she wasn't in similar attire, so he grabbed his jeans from the pile and pulled them on before approaching her. He didn't fasten the belt, so the denim hung low across his hips and showed the entirety of his tattoo, but that was much more comfortable than before, barring the fact that now he was going to have major swamp ass. "Leo," he tried, giving the sort of look that suggested she should recognize it. He gripped her hand more gently than he would normally, and suddenly worried she'd think he was gay.

"You don't live here," he said, cocking a brow. "Unless you're fresh off the ships. It would explain..." He waved a hand in front of her, indicating her person. He'd been a little screwy in the head when he first woke up, too. "But hey, don't sweat it. Happens to the best of us, y'know?"

[attr="class","sinbody2"] "Your alphabet," he grunted as he repositioned himself to drop to the ground. She must be American. Only Americans were that small-minded.

He was ridiculously glad his eyes were downcast - focused on buttoning his jeans - when she hit the nail on the head. He felt his cheeks flush, but if she called him on it he'd play it off as a head rush. But - Sweet fuck, she's psychic, he thought, and focused on wiping his mind of anything else embarrassing she could garner from it. It wasn't as easy a task as one might think. "This was for your benefit, sweetness," he replied, meeting her gaze with all the boyish grace that served him so well. "Don't want to scar you too badly." He winked.

Hazel eyes dropped to their hands together - her grip very pointedly stronger than his. Damnit, she'd noticed. Of course she noticed. But he had a chance to recover with her rebuttal, which caused him to lean back and chuckle. "Oh, an explorer, huh? What have you found?" he asked knowingly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. It was slick with sweat, and the movement brought with it a whole lot of gross. Why hadn't he thought to bring deodorant?! He clenched his arms down a little tighter, hoping to cut off the source. Couldn't she have stumbled upon him while he was bathing in the river? Then he'd be squeaky clean, and everything would be dandy.

Also, what the hell. Here he was, fifty percent naked, and her gaze never left his face. What was she, a prude? Not even a glance at the tattoo - his signature - or a single flicker of recognition at his name. His smirk faltered, replaced with a furrowed brow. Definitely American. "Did you live under a rock on Earth? You don't recognize me?" Shit. He shouldn't have said that.

Recover, recover... "So. Zee. Why Exurbia? What's the appeal? I can't figure it out. I get all of this." He motioned with a flick of his hand rather than a grand gesture, preferring to keep his stank to himself. He gave her long enough to at least start replying before turning away from her to retrieve his shirt and shoes, slinging them over his right shoulder. "Well, I need to wash off," he pointed out, probably cutting her off, and started past her. "You're welcome to join, y'know, if your virgin eyes can handle it." Jaron raised a brow, smirk returning, and continued onward, giving her the option to follow and continue their thrilling conversation or stand there in the middle of the woods by herself.

[attr="class","sinbody2"] He snorted. "It's still yours," he insisted.

At her question, Jaron made a point of hunching over and making a face. Really all he succeeded in doing was flexing his abs, so once again, You're welcome. He straightened at her indication of his person, brow wrinkling. It smoothed quickly, though, turning into a dashing smile with her compliment. "How kind of you to notice," he said smoothly, placing a hand over his chest. There we go, getting back to normal human things. If she kept paying him compliments, he'd feel downright at home.

"Oh really," he pushed, crossing his arms. "Then why aren't all these fantastical discoveries on the map, hmm?" He let the monkey comment slide, but it got him thinking. It would be kind of nice to see the world from up there... Leaning back a bit, he craned his neck to look up at the canopy. Maybe his next workout would be a good climb - that definitely counted as at least upper body and cardio. "S'not a bad suggestion, though," he finally admitted, dropping his chin to look at her once more.

Her guesses had his face contorting in all sorts of ways, but it eventually settled on amusement. "Do I look like the kind of guy that gets told no?" he countered. A moment later, his gaze caught on the hand going through her hair, and he found himself wondering what it felt like. Eh, he'd find out later.

He'd already started moving when he mentioned the horse, which caused him to pause a second. He didn't have a horse, but he missed his cat like nobody's business. Sir Meowington was his only reliable companion... And Jaron was about to have a panic attack if he thought about it any longer. Shaking it off, he walked past Zee in a slightly hurried attempt to get to the river. The cool water would help clear his head. Except she commented on his smell, which caused his nostrils to flare and a deep scowl to tilt his lips. She wouldn't see it, though, because he refused to acknowledge it by turning around.

At least he'd left enough intrigue behind to have her trailing him. The scowl turned into a smirk, and he mentally patted himself on the back. From where she was, she'd be able to see the way his tattoo moved over the muscles of his back, which pleased him. Yeah, she could just stare at that for a little while. If she didn't already know who he was, he wasn't going to make it worse by being like, 'You knooowww, that guy....' No thank you. He could bust into song, but that would also likely result in embarrassment. So he just kept quiet.

The walk to the river took maybe fifteen minutes, all of which were spent in silence regardless of what she said. The water couldn't appear fast enough, and once it did he practically leapt for joy. Crouching on the bank, he set his shirt and shoes aside so he could cup his hands for a fresh drink. Only after he got his fill did he stand, fingers at the button of his jeans. Finally, he looked back at Zee. ".. Are you joining, or just gonna stand there and enjoy the sight that is me?" he asked, winking just before he pushed the jeans off. He really wanted the boxers off, cold water was, uhm... Less than ideal for impressing anyone, if you're picking up what he's putting down. He'd been to this particular stretch of water enough times to know that it was actually pretty deep, so when he dove in at a shallow angle he didn't smash his head on the rockbed. Coming up for air, he waded and pushed a hand through his hair to keep the ends out of his eyes. "Verdict? Yes or no? Wet or dry?" His gaze may or may not have suggested he was asking about more than just the swim.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]He narrowed his eyes at the 'pretty boy' comment. Jaron knew he was attractive - anyone with eyes did - but the way the words sounded coming out of her mouth made it feel like an insult. He snorted and turned his head, not caring to confirm or deny her accusation. She had no idea how badly he'd yearned for the ability to escape as a child, but where would he have gone? His mother had made pretty freaking certain that he got just as ostracized as her; he'd been pretty damn sure that if he'd run, someone would've just found him and returned him to her... And then life would be even more hellacious.

Jaw a little tighter than before, he looked back to her. But she was just talking to talk, so he wrinkled his nose at her but remained silent. She was a wily little thing, and if he wasn't careful he might give her the impression that this little back woods rendezvous was going to result in a friendship. In the back of his mind, his subconscious piped up that that was exactly what he wanted, but dudes weren't supposed to give that kind of thing away. So he'd just lay the charm on real thick and wait for her to either fall into his arms (much more likely) or turn him down and walk away (maybe a 0.5% chance).

His stride didn't falter, but he snorted at her comment. Yeah, totally a serial killer. See these biceps? All the better to strangle you with, he shot back mentally, but deigned not to actually open his mouth. He still stunk, remember, and that was much more important than whether or not this near-stranger thought he had the ability to kill her. Considering his entire way of life essentially depended on what other people thought of him, Jaron almost turned around and answered her... But decided mystery was better. Keep the intrigue alive, keep her interested.

At the water's edge, he stopped, hands at the waist of his jeans. He gave a knowing smirk at her guesses, and just so happened to wink right around the time 'Model? Stripper?' crossed her lips. It was unintentional, but she could think what she wanted. He could pull off all of the above if he put enough thought into it. Mother dearest ensured that.

Boots off - promising sign. Sitting down without taking anything else off - less promising. Her body language threatened to get a rise out of him, but the words made his hormones stop whatever climb they were making. Sinking so only his eyes were above the water, Jaron considered her for a few seconds before gathering a mouthful of water and spewing it in her direction. They were just far enough apart that there wasn't a 100% chance of hitting her, but even a drop would be a victory. "We'll see about that, Sister Jude," he taunted, and ducked beneath the surface. He stayed down for a little bit so he could really scrub at his hair (as best as could be done without soap) and armpits (gross) before coming back up for air. A hand wiped down his face to get the water out of his eyes, and then he opened his mouth as if to suck up more water to spit at her. "Are you going to resign yourself to this fate, or give in and get in with me?" he asked, expression full of mischief.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]He could hear her screech something while he was underwater, but it was too muffled to make out. Her brain probably just figured out the nun comment, if he had to guess. Or maybe she was starting to go off again about how gross it was to spit water at someone. It was just water! She needed to lighten up.

Wait. That actually worked? Jaron tried to keep his eyes from narrowing as she stood. So.. Undressing was okay, but having river water spat in your general direction was a no-no? He wasn't going to point out that it was the same water she was about to jump into, because that seemed a little... less than self-serving. "I'm good at many things, but that is not one of them," he countered, one brow raising ever so slightly. She still got in, though, so either the idea wasn't entirely repulsive or she didn't believe him. Also- Wait a second, rewind... Had that been a machete she'd thrown to the ground?! How had he missed that before? And why on earth PE did she carry one?

He kept his eyes trained on her face, because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but over the years he had become ridiculously good at using his peripheral vision. Yeah, he wouldn't complain if that body ended up beneath his. Or on top; he wasn't picky. "Now, was that so bad?" he asked as she came up for air, smiling charmingly as he tread water far enough away that he wouldn't hit her. It was tempting to move closer, but he didn't doubt that she'd try to drown him if he crossed a line too quickly. She was one of those "work for it" kind of chicks, and occasionally her type was entertaining, so he'd bite.

"Were you an axe murderer on Earth?" he asked, jerking his head toward her arsenal. "Or did you just spend a lot of time in the jungle, hacking things to pieces?" He knew she didn't necessarily have to have the same skill set back home as she did here, but it was an amusing train of thought. His arms were pretty exhausted from his workout (he'd done a lot more before she showed up), so he leaned back and chose to float. Thankfully only his face, knees, and toes really stayed above water, so he didn't have to worry too much about showcasing more than he wanted to.

[attr="class","sinbody2"]The shock on his face showed; oh did it show. He wouldn't be surprised if his eyebrows dove under his wet hair. His lips parted on a silent 'w', not allowing himself to actually verbalize the 'What?' He was supposed to be mister macho, okay? He didn't get flustered by a woman, ever - no matter how off-guard she caught him. Clearing his throat as quietly as he could manage, Jaron put on his best sex-appeal face. "Wet. Always, hands down," he purred.

At the little bit of mystery she tried to hold on to (even though her eyes totally gave her away), he smirked. "Nah, you know the deal. As long as you don't try to kill me, your secret's safe with me." His lips quirked into an almost-full grin in reaction to her giddiness; the only reason he held back was because he wasn't used to genuinely having fun with someone without them knowing who he was and how they would benefit from the interaction. He... Liked this, actually. Even though he didn't exactly know how to act.

His eyes were on the sky - the one that wasn't ever really the same blue as Earth's. Sometimes it was tinted a little purple, or maybe orange, and while it was gorgeous he never tried to think on it too much. That's what scientists were for. Anyway, he was distracted enough by this that he didn't look over to watch her float until she spoke. He snorted and looked away again. "It doesn't really matter anymore - s'not like we can go back," he evaded, giving himself time to decide whether or not he really wanted to tell her anything. Surprising even himself, he realized he didn't want her to change - to morph into one of the fangirls that were little more than a pretty face and a good lay. Peeking at her out of the corner of his eye, though, he felt the thought was ridiculous. She was a little strange, but Zee seemed like someone who didn't really give a shit who you were supposed to be. So with a sigh, he finally spoke. "Jaron," he began, saying it slowly. "My name's Jaron. Leopard - Leo - is just a stage name." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Kinda like Hannah Montana, but about a million times cooler." He wrinkled his nose at the juxtaposition; Miley Cyrus was far from his favorite.

"And I... sing," he finished lamely. It sounded so much weirded putting it like that. He was a performer, and artist, a songwriter... and a person, to put the cherry on top. But he didn't say any of these things - just stared at the sky, wondering distantly how much longer 'today' would last.