>>6104416>>6104429>>6104605>>6104763It's lunchtime anyway, maybe she wants a hamburger made from one of your dead siblings. Even if they're not genetically related to you, you have an internalized affinity for fellow clones. Maybe it's just another coping mechanism, but it's something, rather than nothing. A few of them show up here from time to time, usually when they're on the run or out doing errands their owners can't perform over the internet.
You're getting distracted- you turn and face this ordinary businesswoman. She's got her arms crossed, all business and cynical edge, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. <span class="mu-g">"I'm just looking for the next bus,"</span> she says coldly. Yeah, yeah, take a number lady, we're all emo here.
Wait... They have a barely-functioning metro here, not to mention the taxis. That means she's looking to get out of Mossless. Normally, if she were rich, she'd be able to chart a plane or bum off of a coworker. There is a bus here that rides the Southern coast ever since everything northeast of Georgia was nuked off of the map. The only way to go on wheels is west, unless she wants to visit Atlantic-bottom property in Miami. There are cities out West, even though most of the biggest ones were also wiped out.
Thinking to yourself, you don't say anything, and she leans in, looking at you more closely. <span class="mu-g">"What's the issue? Isn't there a bus stop near here?"</span> Despite her outward aura of self-confidence, you pick up on a slight hint of panic. She's not used to walking around out here, is she? You know where the bus is, but she honestly doesn't, and she doesn't want to look online for information... Someone's looking for her.
Slowly growing more nervous, the corpo turns to look around before preparing to walk away, gritting her teeth and growling.
Does she need some coffee as she waits for the bus?
This causes her to pause before she leaves, turning back to face you with a tilt of her head. <span class="mu-g">"What?"</span>
You asked a simple question. She's going to get on a bus, so she might need... something to drink. Or eat. Confused, she looks at you with narrowed eyes. When you rub your fingers together, she gets the hint. Nothing is free these days, especially not information. You're not sorry: That woman's shoes are probably worth more than you are, so you'll take whatever you can get.
