Tarn makes a small noise of acknowledgement. The sooner this scrap heap of a building is reinforced, the better. He’s growing weary of waking up half covered in sand…

‘A pile of stuff’ is pretty vague, Tarn thinks; perhaps there’s more to find nearby? He adjusts his grip on the sheet of metal as Spinister sets in on welding.

“Where exactly.” He forces, voice harsh as he pushes his volume over the storm. He’ll make his way over when the storm breaks and see if he can help to dig up any additional supplies for them to use.