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Vernon is regretting directing his boss to buy this hunk of junk ostensibly known as a vehicle. Not very much, but a little. Mostly because she then made him drive it, and this is a finicky and temperamental beast that keeps listing to the left, but in amounts that change a bit on every single bump. They are driving through what is colloquially called 'the wasteland,' which is a desert about half as hospitable and twice as rocky as it sounds. He is having to adjust often. It's annoying. Not very, and honestly, having a functioning vehicle that is not potentially going to explode is a bit of a novelty for him, but enough that he will think fondly of that other vehicle boss-lady had been eyeing before he steered her this way. That sure would have been nice to drive. It would have been painting a gigantic target on their backs, but still. He can dream.
She will release him from the hug so she can do some proper moping of her own. Well. Pouting. What she's really doing is pouting.
"We've settled on not giving you up," announces Rosa. "To Julai, I mean. Doesn't make sense long term. Having someone who can fix it if it goes bad in the future is more important than a shiny new one now. Besides, you've been good to us, that's. ... That's worth something."
He straightens up again to offer her a proper smile. "Thank you. I'll make it worth it, I promise."
"We appreciate it," she sighs. "But if you can fix a plant half as well as you can shoot we're probably fine. Though I guess that's your wife's job. You okay there, sweetheart?"
Yeah the grenade launcher would've been a bit trickier to deal with without causing any structural damage.
"Are the police officers on their way...?"
"Naked as the day they were born and regretting their choices, yep. Doubt Julai will mount any kind of retaliation force from so far away."
He grins. "Good. They'll think twice before trying a stunt like this again."
People begin awkwardly filing in after Rosa, various shades of sheepish.
"Yeah uh, sorry," says one to Zash, without any kind of preamble.
"Hm? You don't need to apologise, it really is an unreasonable amount of money."
His fake wife seems to disagree, and is doing some disappointed glaring.
"Ehhhhn, well, it, er, wasn't really obvious how messed up it'd be 'til, er, your uncle over there put it in, um..."
"How can you just be so fine with it?!" demands someone else, of Zash.
Zash blinks a few times and looks at the someone else. "Because it's... understandable?"
"To throw you to be medically experimented on by snakes in labcoats with thugs that shoot first ask questions never. After you've helped and befriended them. When you were in the middle of fixing the problem they needed the money for in the first place."
"Listen, miss, if he'd really helped us proper, then why'd our plants start crapping out on us again so quick?"
"Because the one he fixed is fine! Its fellow that had been propping that one up for a century at its own expense is the one that fell through! Without Zash's intervention they would have both failed together, much worse than either time, in a sudden cascade!"
"I really don't think I was going to be medically experimented on. Not because of that, anyway." Sigh. "And... look, I'm here to help, okay? And if me being here doesn't help and me being elsewhere does help then, then I want to do that. That's a really unreasonable amount of money and I don't want you guys to, to regret having had me here, you know? It defeats the point, if me being here makes things worse."
"Eh," says Vernon, from his whisky. "I'm not sure it would have been better, actually. First they'd have to get you all the way there, with you being... you.... and there being a whole lot of shit between them and the city. Then they'd have to trust the Julai to actually pay up, which, what do they care about their reputation, right? And then, even if all of that goes hunky-dory, they have to get six million double dollars back here, safe and sound. Then there's finding someone who will actually sell a plant, which, good luck with that..."
Then he shrugs. "But it don't matter now, coppertop, it's all sorted. Stop pouting, have a drink, thank the nice people for harboring a wanted fugitive."
She will not stop pouting, actually, she will continue pouting, thank you. POUT.
Zash reaches for Yvette's hand and gives it a squeeze. "It's fine, love. It really is. Julai won't come to bother us again, we can keep working in peace, and soon enough we'll have the plants good as new."
"...you really don't care," someone else realises out loud. "That they came for you, and that we were just discussing... You really just don't care. Why?" They don't sound mad, or outraged. Curious and, frankly, baffled. "Because it's understandable? Do you have no sense of self-preservation?"
"Jeneora was going to be fine, it's not about being fine." Okay, they're starting to get a bit outraged now.
