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A sudden yawn cuts off your train of thought, more or less making the decision for you.
Foundation Square was structured primarily as a traveler's stop, where lodging ranging from the spartan to the... <span class="mu-i">mildly</span> expensive. The businesses here struck you more as catering to the traveler than any kind of resting population- grocers without restaurants, bars without seating, hotels without houses. They were all aimed for people who weren't staying here or didn't plan to long. A part of you expected storage businesses, maybe even a few stores selling tools or defensive supplies for the average traveler, but if they were here, they didn't present on a cursory glance.
Finding a place to stay the night is relatively easy, thankfully. It wasn't as effectively free as staying in the cargo berths, but the bunkhouse offered you a real bed and a locker to store your things while you were around town. The urge to just collapse and rest is strong, but you remind yourself with an effort that any sleep now will just make you tired earlier in the day tomorrow.
With that in mind, you give yourself the basics: a bar of corpsestarch and some of your remaining stockpile of water. A damp cloth and a few minutes with it helps to wash some of the dirt and grime from your boots and robe- while your bodyglove was mostly just damp and stiff from the amount of sweat and humidity it had absorbed over the past few days, your gown was sullied with massive streaks of dust and dirt that covered the front and rear where you had sat on it or lain under the truck. Not to mention the messy streaks of dust that had built up on the front any time you had needed to lean against the door or squeeze through a tight space. There was even an oily-looking stain that you couldn't remember the precise origin of on one of the wide sleeves.
Laying out your tools on the mattress, you wipe the ones you had retrieved from Corvus Lictor down to get the dust off, somewhat regretting that you hadn't taken any of the sacred unguents that had been in the Sun's repair kits with you. They could have used a good coating.
Some attention with the small combination knife and saw that you had in your tools let you somewhat neaten up the torn mantle of your gown, trimming the tatters of fabric off so that they were somewhat neat. The hidden cloth band that the mantle had attached to was visible now, looking almost like a pair of featureless epaulettes rather than a fashionable short cloak.
It was a shame. It was still a nice gown, after all.
Speaking of...
