( It is the stack of cargo that causes the error in her mental processing, the visual cue matching absolutely nothing she's ever seen. How is he carrying all of that? And why? The gun is only slightly concerning with its little green light, but those crates tell her there's something she's missing. Possibly something big.
For a split second, she considers lying to try to pull on whatever allegiance he might feel toward this organization or company or whatever it is, but she decides it's too risky. Despite her investigation of that abandoned facility, she doesn't know the first thing about Bridges, and lying from the get-go might ruin her chance of easily getting information she desperately needs. )
No, I just needed clothes and found these.
( It's the first time she's spoken since waking up and the words feel strange in her mouth as if she hasn't used her voice in a long time. Some creeping sense at the back of her mind thinks it might have been a very long time... )
Where are we?
( Showing her hand like this is a risk too, but it's one she's actually willing to take. )
( Her initial answer is a long, slow, incredulous blink as Sam tries to make sense of that particular question, before he settles on: maybe she’s lost. Wandering in the wastes and lost track of where she was and how to get to the nearest city. It even happened to him sometimes, especially when he went off-grid to where the roads haven’t been rebuilt yet, and the signposts have corroded you can’t even tell where you’re standing on the country’s rotting bones. It was surprisingly easy to get turned around, to find yourself headed in the wrong direction for goddamn days. )
America, ( is the man’s rueful answer, with a bit of surprisingly angry bite to it before he continues. )
The United Cities of America. A little west of Capital Knot City.
( Some of the words are familiar, ghosts of themselves, but subtly askew and unexpected for her frame of reference. United Cities?
Unheeding of how that piece of information might have landed, Sam raises his free hand, indicates with a wordless little is this okay?, before he starts to unbuckle himself from the cargo straps. It’s the smallest gesture, making himself vulnerable in those precious seconds where he’s working himself loose from that monstrous backpack. It’s baring his throat for a moment.
But, also, it’s easier to run if he’s not lugging around cases of heavy metals. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
For a split second, she considers lying to try to pull on whatever allegiance he might feel toward this organization or company or whatever it is, but she decides it's too risky. Despite her investigation of that abandoned facility, she doesn't know the first thing about Bridges, and lying from the get-go might ruin her chance of easily getting information she desperately needs. )
No, I just needed clothes and found these.
( It's the first time she's spoken since waking up and the words feel strange in her mouth as if she hasn't used her voice in a long time. Some creeping sense at the back of her mind thinks it might have been a very long time... )
Where are we?
( Showing her hand like this is a risk too, but it's one she's actually willing to take. )
no subject
America, ( is the man’s rueful answer, with a bit of surprisingly angry bite to it before he continues. )
The United Cities of America. A little west of Capital Knot City.
( Some of the words are familiar, ghosts of themselves, but subtly askew and unexpected for her frame of reference. United Cities?
Unheeding of how that piece of information might have landed, Sam raises his free hand, indicates with a wordless little is this okay?, before he starts to unbuckle himself from the cargo straps. It’s the smallest gesture, making himself vulnerable in those precious seconds where he’s working himself loose from that monstrous backpack. It’s baring his throat for a moment.
But, also, it’s easier to run if he’s not lugging around cases of heavy metals. )