Jones arrived as the horizon was wrapped in heavy purple clouds. Foxy's car stood next to the fire, hood out, like a watchdog. Completing the defensive circle with his car, Jones jumped out of the chair, stretched his legs, and grabbed a backpack of supplies from the passenger seat. A kettle was already hanging over the fire, from which smoked meat was pleasantly drawn.
A small hand rested on the mechanic's shoulder. Jones turned around:
“Glad you're ... that you're both here, too.
"Your ass is really okay," Foxy laughed, shrugging her shoulders. The sniper was holding a bag of dried bread in her hand. After a short hug, the girl pulled back, put her hand into the bag, took out a biscuit and brought it to the hood, holding it in the air.
“Its shore for you,” Jones chuckled, glancing at the gesture.
- Aha, of course! Blow to the fire, you're late!
- No more than Duncan!
“He’s busy right now,” Foxy said grimly. - He took over the dirty work, as always ... We'll discuss it after dinner.
They ate in silence. Jones tried not to bang the spoon hard against the metal bowl - his lonely wandering through the Wasteland battered his already simple manners. Foxy sighed thoughtfully, occasionally tossing pieces of biscuits somewhere behind her back and whispering indignation when someone or something did not want to finish them. Jones ignored it. Foxy's habits have long been known to everyone.
When the meal was finished, the girl was the first to break the painful silence:
“You don’t have to think that they’re all going to squabble to death, right?” Duncan ... he's worried, and so am I. I want to think that there are never too many strong ones, and most, most likely, will just jump out of the distance in time, ”Foxy said quietly, crunching a dry bread crust in her fingers with a crunch.
- Isn't there too much pity for the unknown? Jones' words scratched his throat with emery. - Kindness is a good thing, but we are not in that position. While Ivy is struggling to make friends with at least someone, it is better to stick unnecessary emotions to hell and work.
- I agree with that. But I can’t say that I don’t worry. For Duncan, of course, more than for the left guys, but ... - Foxy began, sharply raising her head and looking somewhere over Jones's shoulder.
Catching her eye, the Mechanic smiled with a dry but friendly chuckle.
- Is our beautiful knight riding somewhere behind me?
"Yes," Foxy smiled, squinting happily. - And do not pour that you are not bored.
- Just think ... - Jones chuckled, throwing still dry fuel into the fire. - Not so much!
The growing roar of the engine ripped through the stillness of the twilight. Duncan parked the wheelbarrow as it should, finishing the circle with its spiked muzzle outward. They have always done this.
“Thank you for responding,” Duncan said, walking up to the fire with a canvas bag in hand. - Besides you, I have no one to discuss the future with.
