Kirby was practically flopping and flailing around on the hood, each spare minute feeling like absolute, utter torture. He could be doing something- though, in reality, he probably could not. Getting these moonfish bastards was going to be tough enough as it was. He didn't need to worry about sinking into the swamp or anything trivial while he was busy trying to catch a luminscent fish. He hated to admit it, but he needed help, and Lena was some of the best help he could get.
He heard a voice and he sat up. Grimly, he said, "about bloody time." He flicked the cigarette away and pushed himself off of the hood, approaching her. They met halfway and he said, "This new epidemic- we're gonna cure it single-handedly. The Lupins think moonsfish scales will get them close to a cure, so we're getting some." He paused, sure she wanted to know why they even cared. "Emmeline has a dreadful case. One of the worst they've seen." Anyone who knew Kirby knew his sidekick.
He cleared his throat and moved back to the Gullwing, pulling out his equipment and shouldering it. "We're heading off to Dartmoor. We have a trek from where we're apparating and night should just be falling as we get there. You ready?"