Yes, really! ( Look, he knows trying to goad him into coming out there for himself was a long shot – not just because Simmons is fucking horrible at goading, but also taking into consideration Grif's monumental levels of laziness – but he had to take a crack at it. Call it a personal ambition. )

He feels those waves of judgement. He could feel them across miles had there been more distance between them, but given their close proximity, it's all the more potent. Hateful radiation is definitely go.

You'd better not give him cancer, Grif.

Simmons is still looking from Grif to the direction he'd been headed when he'd first opened the door, back to Grif again, and he's finally beginning to think that he'd made a mistake by coming out here on his own. "If there's something out here that's going to eat people, it's going to come for you first because you're a bigger target." And you're bright orange. You stick out like one of those orange construction cones, only a hundred times bigger.

Once more, looking from Grif to the wild and unknown space just beyond his reach, and now he's just going to come back toward the door. Because fuck this. He's not that brave. "Forget it. There's probably nothing out there, anyway."