"Ugh, yeah." Grimacing, Cliffjumper twitched, and at Mirage's expression he was struck both by the openness of it, and the ease with which they were talking. He shook his helm.

"Muck and bugs and whatever else is in all the slag around here that can get lodged everywhere... hate the fact that any battlefield basically becomes a mud pit, if we ain't fightin' in the streets."

The planet was way too wet and even when it wasn't, like, say, in a desert, the sand then got everywhere instead.

At least that was dry, but it could itch something fierce, especially if it had lodged itself somewhere but good.

"That's true, though," he couldn't help laughing again, some of the earlier tension bleeding out of his shoulders and wheel-wells unnoticed by Cliffjumper, "I ain't got it that bad, no matter how disgustin' it can be. Kinda surprised you ain't been among those, though."

Tilting his helm, Cliffjumper peered up at Mirage, both with some faint underlying incredulity coming from their class differences - nobles always seemed so slagging stuck up and prissy - and just amusement and some respect that Mirage wasn't reacting like that.