He didn't end up having any destination in mind, so they're going with hers. Unfortunately, the one she has in mind has a date they need to be there by. He wasted a lot of time with his self flagellating temper tantrum. And her guide's dead so, uh, that complicates things a lot, too.

She has a map, and a compass, and honestly this is just a lot of flat desert, so. There is a direction she is driving and she will be sticking to it. If they go off track and get lost then so be it, it will still be smarter than whatever the fuck Zash was up to before.

At least this way they can keep vaguely aware of the goings on of the wider world. They have a radio.

It's been three days since the tragedy in Jeneora Rock. The chain of incidents has been linked to the wanted criminal Zash the Stampede. Additionally, a woman has been identified as a possible accomplice. The Seven Cities' Military Police are also searching for her as a person of interest.

And now, the weather for the Seven Cities...

"... You know what. That's better than it could have been. No identifying characteristics to speak of." It's not like she doesn't have them.

Tell her, oh weatherman, will it be sand or will it be sand, she's ever so curious.

It'll be sand.

...but not a ton of sand, seems like there are no sandstorms coming so uh. Yay?

Hooray.

Driving. Driving. Driving. Is Zash going to nap forever or is he just avoiding her? She's beginning to get suspicious.

He's not avoiding her per se; he's just avoiding being awake and having thoughts.

But be it coincidence or psionics, he stirs awake just as she's thinking this.

"Good news, darling! According to the radio, I'm your accomplice. With no traits or characteristics besides ostensibly being a woman."

He blinks blearily, yawns, then says, "No adjectives? Brilliant? Beautiful? Red-haired?"

"Not a one, it's a travesty. Also no mention of your very scantily clad you-alike, which makes me even with the radio, I guess."

"Unclad," he corrects. "That's his skin."

"Then I have some concerns about the state of our fake marital relations. Unless your robot arm has a vibrator setting, in which case my concerns are rescinded."

He cracks a smile. "It does, also our shapes aren't fi—"

"—wait, you saw him??? And survived?????"

"Uh? Yeah? He came for the plant, I was right there. He had many knives. They flew. Somehow."

Zash shudders.

"I'm in retrospect even more relieved you're alive."

"... You aren't going to want to hear what I said to him, then."

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then says, "Hit me."

"Well, first he told me to, and I quote, 'get out of his way, human.' To which I refused. Because I was busy. And then he brought out his knives and asked again, and since by that time I had successfully saved the plant from a death spiral, I did in fact listen to him. And then I threatened him with my absolutely nothing to not put the poor plant all on its own like that asshole bomber had been planning to do."

"...what exactly did you say."

"Uh. ... 'Not yet, I'm not done saving it,' and then something about how he shouldn't dare to take it somewhere all by itself."

"......yeah that'd do it."

"On the not being murdered for my insolence front? Neat."

"I think if you insisted you might've died anyway but, uh, refusing to do what he told you to do because you were trying to save the plant would get you a lot of points with my brother."

"Aw. I'm even making friends with the in-laws. Look at me, now you're going to have to actually meet my parents."

He shudders again. "That sounds terrifying. I've never met the parents."