IT'S JUST ONE BIG SANDBOX FROM HELL
"Sand… Sand, sand, sand, sand, SAND! All it is is SAND! Whirling, gritty, grimy. Gets everywhere! Sand! Man, I told ya this'd be a bad idea!" Shouted a rather complacent orange and yellow fuzz-ball only to be gagging and coughing for his efforts at verbally showing his discomfort after doing so.
"I mean come on!" The ottsel continued regardless, still choking on a mouth full of sand. "You've got to try and get the hang of saying no to some of these damned missions. I mean, yeesh, some o' these things people are askin' us ta do, it's ridiculous!" He paused only for a moment to glance at his companion for a reaction, but didn't receive one for the lack of face. Goggles down over his eyes, scarf rapped and tucked tightly around the lower half of his face to cover mouth and nose, orange lightning wasn't gettin' nothin' outta the guy. But continued again just to be sure his point was being heard.
"It's not like we owe them nothin'. Saved their asses more times than I'd like ta count… The way I figure it, they owe us!" He finally finished with a rather powerful sneeze almost knocking himself off of his friend's shoulder.
"Dax." His old buddy finally replied in a partially annoyed, partially amused tone.
"Yes, Jak ol' buddy ol' pal?" Daxter answered.
Jak turned his head slightly to see his friend crouching on his shoulder and hanging on tightly in obvious concern of being blown away by the sand storm they, or rather he, was walking aimlessly through.
"Shut up."
"Okay, I can do that. I was getting' sand in my mouth anyway and that's about as bad as gettin' a-"
"Daxter."
"Right! No more talkin!"
"And Daxter, you're wrong."
"Yeah? 'Bout what?"
"There's rocks too." Jak said casually.