"Definitely not, but he's interesting," she replies, falling into step with him. Wanted in three counties, too, that's gotta mean something. "Said you were only a little bit of an asshole. What'd you two get up to?"
"Yeah, he was going on about that with me, too. He's some sort of robot, built for entertainment. I guess it's some sort of Jurassic Park thing with cowboys instead of dinosaurs."
"I know what a dinosaur is," he says, looking over at her with some amusement. "In fact, I collected a couple bones in my day. This kooky old lady asked me to help her out, mail her any I found."
"Really?" she replies. She'll believe it, but she's not sure which surprises her more –– that they knew anything about dinosaurs back then, or her own assumption that dinosaurs didn't really pre-date Jurassic Park. "You have a crazy number of hobbies."
"Is that so?" That actually surprises him a little. Even during the wilder days, people still tended to accept money. Or, well, they carried it on them.
"Both," she replies. "Well, sort of. Fuel is technically contraband, so it's just credits for water usage and electricity. Kind of the way the running water works here –– but every time you turn it on, it costs you."
"You and I are more alike than you'd think," he says, with a little grin and a tap to his temple. He actually did think they were quite similar right away, but he enjoys pointing it out.
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You're alright. What do you need it for?
If she listens carefully, she can hear his door opening and closing a few doors down the hall.
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She does indeed. Good man! She pops out to join him.
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A beat.
"Do you know what a robot is? Or dinosaurs?"
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"And you just help them out, trucking T-rex skulls or whatever across the country? Do they pay you?"
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He doesn't know what a T-rex is. Sorry.
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"Most of the time?" she repeats, giving him a raised eyebrow. No sir, not her. "I'd charge them a premium, asking for rare things like that."
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"Sometimes it's goods, not money. Weapons, that sort of thing."
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"Those get you food? Fuel?"
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"Uh huh," she replies. "Seeing as you figured your shit out first, that makes it easier for me."
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"Oh yeah. Shame I forgot my damn rulebook back home, so I'm gonna hafta play it by ear."
Damn, he's glad they were paired. He tosses her his journal when they walk up to the lounge, so she can open it herself.
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"Good thing I like playing it by ear," she replies. The best plans survive that way, evolving, adapting. "You competitive, Arthur?"
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"I dunno," he says, quite honestly. "What makes a man competitive? I like winnin' a game of cards as much as any man around."
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