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Jet slung his rifle over his shoulder, taking a load off on a large rubber tire stuffed with rusted pipes. While not physically taxing, there'd been a few intense moments during their little bout with gramps. Auron's critique of his physical ability and aura control was met with a short, knowing nod. He couldn't deny it; had it come down to direct blows there'd be no telling how much damage he'd have sustained in that fight. Veloce's stepping stone comment prompted a slight smirk on the young boy's behalf - glad to know that little stunt would go down in their group's history.

Jet's mood sobered at the mention of why the group had chosen to pursue the life of huntsmen. Everyone's reasons were standard enough, the spotlight eventually turning to Jet who stood within it like a deer in headlights. Why did he want to be a huntsman? Truthfully, he wasn't sure. It had always been Slate's dream, and Jet had simply resigned himself to riding those coattails wherever they may lead. Growing up his older brother had often teased him for acting like his own shadow sometimes. God he missed him. He supposed he could say he was doing it for Slate, if not for the tiny detail that that's who he was pretending to be. It took him a minute to realise the silence had grown stifling. He'd been sitting there like a bump on a log in lieu of providing an actual answer to the question.

"[color=slategray]Uh,[/color]" He coughed, trying to think of something on the spot. "[color=slategray]I guess, there ain't many other ways to make an honest living where I grew up. Being a Hunter was really the only choice I had.[/color]"