[Guzma feels like he needs to swallow again, but his throat is so dry it feels impossible. He needs a drink, is what he needs. Maybe not just a drink of water, but his options are limited here.]

Yeah? Well, then maybe we oughta blow some shit up!

[Yes, focus on destruction and explosions, not how hot Jill is right now. Finally, he tears his eyes away from her, looking at the target she just finished shooting up, his tongue darting over his dry lips to wet them. There's certainly a warmth radiating from him, that's doing a good job to combat the cool air.]

Midwest? [he looks back at her, eyebrow raised.] Was your country so big that the normal directions weren't enough?

[So asks the Islander...]