[He yelps and yanks his feet up, and in doing so manages to make himself lose his balance and topple backwards off the edge of the log. Not him at his most dignified. It's reflex more than anything that gets him to throw up a portal in his path so he can fall through and give himself room to land on his feet, rather than landing in a tangle of long limbs and sleeves and hat-- which he adjusts once he's all settled, the hood having fallen askew over his face in all the commotion.

The portal winks out. He flashes another smile, but this time the gesture is a bit more noticeably forced.] That's quite alright. I've taught my share of young initiates -- I know that clumsiness is a difficult habit to break.

[Brushing some stray blades of grass off his clothes, he wisely elects to remain on his feet. At his height, he can't help but look down his nose at Zelos.] That's a little cynical though, isn't it? After all, an entire flight shouldn't be spoiled by one or two poisonous individuals. It makes much more sense to, ah-- cut out the rotten parts.