"… I mean, I've already ordered. And am ferrying cargo. So."

"Well I'll be damned," Eddie exclaims. "Now what company in their right mind'd hire some young city slicker like you for an Outland rig?"

"… I mean, I literally just arrived in the City?"

He scoffs. "They're handin' these licenses out to anyone who shows up! Whatcher even haulin'?"

"… Merchandise. I don't know that I'm allowed to tell under my contract."

"Not allowed to tell? What th'hell kinda contract's that?" he asks, and someone sniggers.

"They're so long, you see, so I don't know if it does mention. I wouldn't like to be liable for anything."

He blinks at her. "What are you talkin' about?"

"… Never mind. I carry toys."

And that seems to work like a charm: the room explodes into laughter. Even truckers who had been ignoring the situation squeak out a chuckle.

"Happy Acre," Eddie recognizes immediately. "The old lady couldn't sucker in another one of us, so she's turning to some rube from the city! That is perfect. Hey, everybody! Looks like the Cuddlebear Convoy's back in business!"

Drinks are raised in mock salutation, toasting Rachel's new job.

"Cute name."

To further devalue and discredit Rachel, Eddie finally puts his hands on her... in the form of a paternal pat on the head. Supposedly sympathetic.

"Melba! This kid's lunch is on me,” he declares. "She's gonna need every dollar she can hang onto... you poor little girl. You'll be quitting that crazy-ass job within a week. Nobody lasts on the Cuddlebear Convoy for long."

Satisfied that he's neutralized whatever threat Rachel poses to his way of life, Eddie wanders back over to a table of sycophants and resumes eating his hamburger.

… Rachel tries not to act too much like her dignity has been totally destroyed, and instead turns to face the counter and wait for her lunch.

And shortly after, Melba arrives with her free lunch.

"Thanks."

Yum. She takes it and leaves.

No one follows her.

Then she will eat in her truck, relatively contently.

That might well be the most delicious pulled pork sandwich she has ever eaten in her life, and while she's eating it Melba comes knocking at her truck.

Rachel rolls down the window. "Hi."

She offers a doughnut.

"You forgot this," Melba points out.

And the bells, silent until now, ring again: everybody's favorite auntie.

Rachel tries not to make a face at the bells. "Thanks," she responds, taking it.

"You've got a long haul ahead. Any calories will help," Melba suggests. "But you'll also be sitting behind the wheel for hours. Not good for your back. Why not eat inside? I keep my stools comfy. Gotta replace the padding every few months, but it's worth it..."

"I'm honestly fine here, but thanks."

"Honey, I know it's tough, but... if you're working a route, this is your crowd. You're a trucker now, no matter what you did for a living before," she replies. "Better to make peace with that. I can't bring your lunch out to you every day, you know."

"If what they said is right, it'd only be for a week anyway."