It takes a lot more effort than Jared would like to admit to straighten himself back up once she's climbed aboard, so to speak. It doesn't occur to him that she might find any part of this situation uncomfortable, because he doesn't. The way he sees it, this is survival and it's not like they're doing anything salacious. If he knew what she was thinking, it might give Jared some well-needed perspective on his male privilege, but alas, his focus instead is on the sprinkler system.

When she calls down, he tries to look up to see what it looks like inside the box. For his effort, he gets a face full of skirt and water, so he gives up as quickly as he'd tried. "Okay, there should be, like, either a switch or a dial. I can't see, what's it look like on the inside of the box?"

If there's a dial, then it's on a timer that she'll have to manually force down to zero, he thinks. If there's a switch, it might be a little more difficult, because he imagines that the thing is still on a timer and the switch will have a delay on it. He hopes that it's either a dial or that he's wrong about the set up. It'd be so much easier if he could see. Hell, there could even be buttons; he supposes it could look like anything at all. If whoever brought them here had enough technological advancement to embed a fucking iPhone in their arms without killing them in the process by way of bleeding out or sepsis or something, then who knew what kind of tech would be running the watering system for a bunch of killer plants?

Speaking of, he could feel the vines wrapping and tightening around his legs, so he hoped to hell Sharra could reach from where he was standing, because he wasn't going to be going anywhere like that. His hands were too busy holding her up to keep her from falling to be otherwise occupied untangling his legs.