[ Cornelius Hickey, who has his cheeks almost bursting at the seams due the amount of food stuffed in there, looks at Kieran like he's a goddamn idiot. He finishes chewing and swallowing, chipmunk cheeks doing down to something normal. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve (a Victorian era naval officer's coat, please ignore the dried blood on the back of it) before pointing out, ]

Well that's a bloody stupid decision. [ He's got an English accent and a slightly sardonic tone: Hickey isn't hiding the fact that he thinks Kieran's being an idiot. ] But if you want to turn down what might be your last chance at a good meal, more for me.

[ He'll take another bite of the charred moose on the plate he's holding. Hickey eats with a voracity unknown to most men, a purposeful sensation that this meal might be his last. That nothing is for granted. He doesn't know when he will get food next, so he's eating his fill and then some. ]

As for where we are? Only one place I can think of that gets this cold. We've got to be in the Arctic.

[ he is totally guessing. ]