"Yeah."

"...what the fuck do you mean, yeah? You're a kid. What the fuck would you even know?"

"My mother's dead because of me. If I hadn't—if she hadn't—it's not important. I know how you feel."

"...oh. I'm," sob, "I'm sorry."

Plus, you know, all those other people over the past hundred years, but Zash isn't about to talk about all of that. Luida's enough to make the point. He even means it.

"...but the world hasn't ended. Has it? And sometimes it feels like it should've. Sometimes—a lot of the time—most of the time, even—it feels unfair. It feels unfair that they're gone and you're not, that you're the one who has to still live in this world facing the consequences of what you did, of your own choices. And you have to face it without them. And that's the worst part. With them, you could take on the world; without them you just want to run away. Forget. And sometimes you wish you were dead, but you know they wouldn't want you to die, they'd want you to live even without them. Heal and move on. And so you're stuck in limbo, not knowing how to go on without them, but not wanting to end it because of them, stuck in place and unable to go anywhere."

He started sobbing freely in the middle of that, not even bothering to try to turn his face away anymore. Sobbing and eating because this is really good food and, and how dare good food exist when they're gone, when they're not here to taste it. What's the point.

"Get," sob, "get me that whiskey."

"...no. Eat your food. I have something to show you."

"You're not making me face all of my shit while sober."

"Yeah. I am. Eat up, Xander's a mean cook."

"Ugh. Fine."

Zash gives him time to finish eating and to pull himself together, then he gets up, pays, and leads the way out.

The first place he goes to is back to the trucks, where the workers are now in the shade drinking water and spending some time together. The last truck's been loaded already and earlier than it otherwise would've so they're just killing time before their next task. "Hey Samuel, hey Reks, hey Hal."

"Hi, Z," they all say. "We don't have any more trucks today," says Reks. "But we have some more stuff at the warehouses if you wanna help with those?"

"Ah, I'm afraid I don't have a ton of time now, I have some errands to run."

"Shame. Nice having you here today, though, you were a big help!"

"Oh, you were doing fine without me."

"Sure but you helped anyway!"

"Well, glad I could, then!"

And onwards.

"...was that part of what you were showing me, or...?" wonders Frank.

"Mmhm. Let's go to the market, though."

It's nearing mid-afternoon so the people selling food are starting to pack up, but Dennis is there still. "Hey Z," he calls. "...and John," he adds, a lot less cheerfully. "Good haul yesterday, and had a few repeat customers looking for you today. Don't think they were interested in the food though," he says with a grin.

"Oh, stop that. It was my pleasure to help."

"Say, I heard Jill asked you out yesterday and you said no. Don't suppose that means you bat for the other team?"

He sporfles. "What is it with people in this town and flirting with me?"

"Don't think that counted as flirting, I think that was propositioning, actually."

"Is it a cultural thing, then? Being this direct?"