"Oh God no. I don't hit friends," he says, suddenly very serious and sounding just a little bitter. "Besides, Zou? I'd break my hand."

He starts walking back up the cliff. "Anyway, yeah. See you later, Humpty Dumpty."

When he gets back to the clifftop, he doesn't hit things. He's not really the violent type, even now. He doesn't cry, either - crying's become a bit of a ritual for him, reserved for important emotions or thinking too hard about everything that's happened to get any sleep every few nights. Not for dumb stuff like this.

He does, however, pull the rocks back out of his backpack and drop them, one by one, off the edge.