It had been quite a journey, Jay would acknowledge to anyone who asked. The cart's atmosphere had felt so oppressive and nerve-wracking that he'd chosen instead to study the grimoire in his possession. And wasn't that nerve-wracking in its own right? The one possession he'd come out of this land clutching like his life depended on it (perhaps it did?), with text was almost entirely in an ever-shifting cipher that no one in town recognized, some of it written in his own handwriting, and without any clear purpose. Perhaps he had once known the reason behind acquiring the text, but it felt like he had traded years of his life for it, and those years included the reasoning for the tome. 

Such reflections did no good. However, neither did his most recent attempt at deciphering the text. There was no one to blame but himself - he just couldn't figure out the key. As such, when he left the cart, it was more with an air of self-loathing than defeat or aggravation. He brushed himself off physically - it'd been quite dusty - and mentally as he surveyed the terrain lying beneath them. The settlement intrigued him - had he been there? He did hope he could persuade the group to accompany him on a detour to explore its remains.

The coachman was speaking. He was going to leave. Yes, that made sense - he remembered some folks recoiling when he told them where he'd been, as far as he could recall. There had been questions about his very sanity when he made it clear he intended to return as well. Part of him wondered if they'd be able to call the coachman back to this spot once their journeys were through - but that was a silly question, wasn't it? No one wanted to be out here. Not even everyone in the group seemed to be here voluntarily. So instead, he said, "[color=fff79a]Thank you for your services, good sir. I personally require nothing more.[/color]" He glanced to the others, wondering what they'd say.