[Patrolling? Guzma blinks, looking up again and...sure enough, the papers were indeed circle overhead in the sky, like vultures on the lookout for a tasty bit of carrion. He wrinkles his nose, wading into the cool ocean water to wash off the murky, black ink from his body and hair. The worse of it he'll need actual soap and water, but at least the ink that hasn't dried comes off pretty easily.]

Tch, not really...seems they're pestering everyone and everything out there right now. Like they're tryin'a sniff out trouble but are causing more of it than anyone out here on the islands. ...I'd commend 'em for their efforts at making mischief if'n I weren't a hecking target, yo. [Guzma grumbles wringing out a part of his trunks and seeing a pool of black water dribble into the water. Ugh. He only looks up when the newbie offers a hand in his chores.]

Huh? Oh, uh...well, I got way more laundry to do now...gotta get together some wood n' tinder to start a fire for dinner - no to mention actually find something interesting to cook. Fish gets boring after a while if'n y'don't prepare it a different way. ...But I ain't no good at butchering nothing...so a bludroc or any like... steaks are outta the question unless I ask someone to hunt and slaughter something for me.

And no offense, homeboy, but y'all don't look the hunting type.