"Well, hopefully you get to explore up there someday," she replies, getting her other hand on his arm to help him up, and she gives him a fond little pat on the arm before carrying on. "In your own time would be better. I'm sure you'll find your own version of trouble to shoot, anyway."
“Might?” she replies. “You can do whatever you want after this, Arthur.”
He gets to go back to an America looking forward to more than a century of growth, innovation, optimism. That, in Tess’s books, is worth planning for.
She looks out at the path ahead of them, still narrow and still with its ups and downs, and she glances back at him. She guesses if this were wrong, he’d say something, so she just carries on, hopping back down on the other side.
“You can risk your neck on all the treasure hunts you want.”
"You'll figure something out," she remarks. People always do, especially when they don't have a choice not to. "He's not going to dog wherever you go, is he?"
It’s been novel, in a way, spending so much time with a man who looks back. One who doesn’t just make the past off-limits. Harping on him to move on almost feels cruel, so she bites it back.
“Alright, so start thinking of plans,” she informs him. “Otherwise I’ll have to come back with you and make sure you don’t become a loner.”
She spots the big long crack in the rock and crouches a bit to look at it.
"See how I put up with camping out first and then you decide how much you mind," she replies, playful, her attention still on the rock face. Better to dull the smile she can't resist, too. Imagine that, knowing someone almost always up for her company.
She idly wonders if she's going to get bit by a snake or a bat if she just sticks her arm in, but she supposes there's no way to know but to try.
She pulls it out. She's not sure what she was expecting as far as treasure, but it certainly wasn't fabric, and she gives it a cursory look before unrolling it. Another map, this one with twiggy trees and little smoking volcanos. Geysers? Whatever the fire version of a geyser is?
She glances at Arthur sidelong.
"They got you running over to Yellowstone or something for treasure?" she asks, amused.
“Whoever left this behind,” she replies, sticking her hand back in to get it. She empties the pouch into her palm and chuckles. “This real precious metal? Must be real.”
The gruesome murders would be run of the mill, at least.
“I mean it’s not cheap metal plated with something else, or plastic pearls,” she replies. She tips them back into the bag. “They must have been wiped out if they left all this unclaimed.”
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"And I'm a quick shot," he points out, with a little grin, as he heaves himself up on the ledge. "Canada. Never been that far North."
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He falls back in step behind her, letting her take the lead again.
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He gets to go back to an America looking forward to more than a century of growth, innovation, optimism. That, in Tess’s books, is worth planning for.
She looks out at the path ahead of them, still narrow and still with its ups and downs, and she glances back at him. She guesses if this were wrong, he’d say something, so she just carries on, hopping back down on the other side.
“You can risk your neck on all the treasure hunts you want.”
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"I don't know about that, Tess. After this- after what happened with Dutch, I don't think I can do whatever I want."
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“Alright, so start thinking of plans,” she informs him. “Otherwise I’ll have to come back with you and make sure you don’t become a loner.”
She spots the big long crack in the rock and crouches a bit to look at it.
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He leans a shoulder against the rock wall and looks at her, looking at the crack.
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She idly wonders if she's going to get bit by a snake or a bat if she just sticks her arm in, but she supposes there's no way to know but to try.
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No way to know but try-- and when she reaches into that crack she's rewarded for her inquisitive mind with the feeling of cloth.
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She glances at Arthur sidelong.
"They got you running over to Yellowstone or something for treasure?" she asks, amused.
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"Who's 'they'? Get your treasure, Tess."
It's a bracelet and a necklace from very fine material - that will disintegrate when they leave the Enclosure, but still.
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"Think this is some gang's map, and they hid bits and pieces everywhere. Not sure what happened to 'em."
Hey, count yourself lucky he's not recreating the gruesome murders he stumbled upon!
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“I mean it’s not cheap metal plated with something else, or plastic pearls,” she replies. She tips them back into the bag. “They must have been wiped out if they left all this unclaimed.”
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He straightens up, groaning when his back cracks. Getting old. "You did good."
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“Wasn’t that hard,” she remarks, though she smiles. Compliments! “Smugglers use caches too. Our maps are just a bit more... legible, I guess.”
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“Really? Huh,” she replies. “I mean, even when drawn —— buildings look a whole lot more specific than a tree.”
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“Sure.”
Tess fishes her communicator out of her pocket to do just that. And then she thinks of something, communicator still in hand.
“Hey. Take a picture with me.”
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"--sure. How d'you want to?"
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