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It was supposed to be a regular day of labwork. Oliver would go and put in his hours of tedious data input, feeding minipets, running small tests on cultures and samples, more tedious data input. Today however, they were short one crucial sample.

There was no drawing of straws. No rock, paper, scissors. Not when Oliver was so easily bullied into the task, given a large jar, and told to go down to the beach and try and nab one of the small, weird creatures that occasionally washed ashore. The big monsters out in the open water would have been too much for the Life trainee, but surely he could grab one of the floundering little ones in the shallows. Or so they thought.

By the time Oliver made it down to the beach, he had almost stumbled and dropped the large jar twice. His nerves always got worse outside the walls. And interacting with weird, potentially dangerous creatures was always a frightening situation for the boy.

He wandered nervously down the shoreline a fair ways without seeing any live specimens, keeping his eye on the gentle waves. It unnerved him, the way the cliff rose on one side, trapping him between the rock and the water with little escape… So when he caught a glimpse of movement near a section of the cliff face, he squeaked and nearly dropped the jar for a third time.

The relief was clear on Oliver's face. It wasn't a monster. Just RIpley.

Attached to the side of the cliff.

Oliver looked at the unsafe looking assembly keeping the other hunter from a serious fall. Shifting the weight of the large jar he was holding, he wandered away from the edge of the water, and closer to the edge of the rock wall.

"U-um, n-no, I'm just the least experienced," Oliver mumbled, failing to take what little humour might have been offered. "I-I have to get one of the small ones, but... I don't really want to go into the water... and I haven't found a good stick yet."

The whole time he spoke, the boy awkwardly fidgeted and looked curious without trying to look curious, wondering why Ripley was on the rock wall. Finally he gave in. "I-is there something up there?"

"A small... one..." Oliver repeated, gesturing towards the water. He hadn't drawn the short stick, it had been handed right to him. It was a phenomenon he had gotten used to, often a meek smile and nod was easier than trying to refuse.

Shifting the weight of the large jar once again, Oliver watched Ripley make his way across the vertical terrain like a spider in a very, very clever human suit. Like Octodad, but actually convincing.

"I-isn't that dangerous?" He asked, once Ripley was once again in an apparently stable position. "I-it l-looks really high up..."

It suddenly occurred to him that he was seeing another side of Ripley that he would never have guessed existed. Of course, hunters must have had hobbies before coming to the island. If this was not a recently developed activity, the strength and stamina from rock climbing would have been an advantage while learning to fight... At least, if Ripley didn't also practice fencing or something in his pre-hunter years too!

Oliver watch tensely as Ripley began to move downward, both fearful and amazed that the other hunter was able to find places that were safe to put his weight on. The tension temporarily left him once both his friend's feet were on the sand.

"You d-didn't happen to see, uh... any sticks or anything from up there?" The kid asked hesitantly. He didn't expect much of an answer, aside from those moments Ripley had been looking his way, the other hunter had probably focused his attention on the wall itself. Oliver was regretting his lack of foresight already, bringing along a rake or shovel would have been ideal... But he could make do with driftwood, if he could find some.

He was so distracted that he opened his mouth to say 'okay', but the sound died in his throat when he realized what Ripley had asked. "N-no! No th-thank you!" He immediately stammered, taking a step back and hugging the jar tightly, and almost protectively.

"Ah, please!" yelped Oliver, his fear spiking when Ripley let go of the wall with one hand. "D-don't fall or anything! I-it's okay, I can find it!"

It didn't seem to matter that the process of rock climbing itself required letting go of the wall every now and again, otherwise there would be no progression at all, the way Ripley so casually let go and looked over his shoulder was a perfect trigger for his high strung nerves.

The Life trainee set the jar down and slowly backed away, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around and search for the stick that had been pointed out. What if Ripley slipped?

"Uh... It's, um, nice down here too..." He added lamely, searching for an excuse to continue watching his friend.

The boy seemed barely interested in samples. He had not wanted to approach the beach at all, and even without realizing it he would seize every opportunity for procrastination that presented itself.

"Really?" Oliver asked, and although he wasn't exactly stammering, there was an uncertain shakiness in his voice. "Why... um... Why would you start climbing if you were afraid?" The moment the question left his mouth, the young trainee was struck by how restricted his own life had been. Fear kept him far away from activities others took as hobbies, preferring to safely gather intellectual knowledge rather than seek real life experience.

And as a child who buried fears rather than conquering them, he had yet to feel that sense of liberation Ripley spoke of.

Oliver's brows furrowed, the anxiety losing it's focus as his friend made it to the ground. Instead it seemed to turn inward. Ripley was so much braver than he was, there was no way he could ever get over his fears and face them like that. And even if he tried, who's to say he wouldn't just pass out, or do something equally embarrassing... and make it worse?

"W-what did you do?" Clearly Oliver was not yet proficient in mind-reading. In many other areas the boy could have filled in what was left unsaid, but when it came to the terrifying nature of his terrors, he was remarkably ignorant.

Oliver approached like a nervous deer. There was always reason to be suspicious when words themselves were not used to explain things. Still, in his ignorance, the boy could fool himself into believing perhaps it was a secret, and Ripley simply wanted to share it in confidence.

"Um... I-it's not something awful, is it? Like... uh, something Finn would do?" Ripley was probably Finn's best friend, surely the white-haired hunter would understand the sort of 'something' Finn was capable of.