"Why am I carrying this? This looks like a pain in the ass."

Dylas stepped forward and kicked the steel ball with one of his hooves. It hurt like hell, but the ball still rolled a few yards away while Dylas tried (and failed) to look like that didn't just hurt. He glances up at Midna, but it's not like he can really see her well from doing that.

"You're lucky I want some damn stew," he muttered as he went to pick it up. There was nowhere convenient to store it on his body, so he had to resort to holding it in his right hand. At least being a Monk meant he could carry it without ease, but he still didn't have to like it.