Justin wouldn't know how to work a camping trip at all if it hadn't have been for family friends growing up. If it hadn't been for weekends away with other rich kids, rich kids with outdoors-y fathers, if it hadn't been for clubs and associations said rich kids were almost obligated to join...Justin wouldn't have a clue where to start. He certainly wouldn't have sought it out in his adult life, not with the build and like of cleanliness that he'd grown into. He was fine with the outdoors. In moderation. A night out not far from his parents' place, a location where they could easily get to a nice restroom if they really had to, a place not far from an actual residence? Moderate enough, as far as Justin was concerned.

"No, not matches."

But he's been a bit juvenile, he knows, watching Tony go through massive issues with starting a fire. Matches? Oh no. Hidden away in an inner, zipped up sleeve of his duffel bag, however, is something a lot better and far easier to deal with. He's bent over it a moment before he pulls out a butane grill lighter, the innocent look on his face not as innocent as he'd liked it to be. But he can't help it, all right? It was good for a few minutes, but there's no way he'd let Tony linger on in fear it would never happen and he'd end up bleeding all over the place after trying to rub fire from two sticks.

"It's the twenty-first century, right? It's like bringing a knife to a gun fight or whatever. Here, just." A moment and he lights it up, moving his hand to the side to demonstrate how it's done as he comes up next to him, giving himself a bit of room in case Tony decides his game is deplorable and so is he. "You got it, or should I do it?"