Flynn kept his place at the rear of the group, and he kept most of his attention focused on the passsgeway behind them- who could tell what sorts of things, besides that kelpie, were out there? It would not do to be surprised in these tunnels.
He had been uncharacteristically quiet since his brief, embarrassing slip off the wet ledge- he was still smiling, but it was a grim, brittle smile. More to the point, he had slung his surgeon's satchel across his back- and he had a loaded and primed pistol in each hand.
When Etienne returned from his scouting, Flynn turned sideways so he could listen to the report without losing sight of their back-trail. He chuckled softly at the description, and shook his head. "Just like a Frenchman, this Ollonais-using snails to guard his hoard," he muttered, keeping his voice low to match Etienne's caution. Looking around the group, he chuckled softly again. "No offense meant to current French companions, o'course..."