"A steady and fulfilling job is the sort of thing I bet a lot of people would kill for, 'round here.  And it sounds like you've got one, y'know?  I have a bit of a grander dream than just a steady life, but - it's good that you have yours.  And that there's - enough room in it to give a damn about helping - some random woman," she lets out a self-deprecating 'aheh', "that you'll probably never meet again."

"World's a fucked up place, you know. No need to fuck it up further. On the other foot, seen heads drive themselves to death trying to help, give too much. Balance." He taps a finger to his head as if delivering sage wisdom.

He handles another sale to a passerby, then stands and streches and packs up the remaining stock on display into still full boxes. And then starts passing her boxes. Last one gets left behind.

"Oh no. It looks like we forgot a box with a few odd bars in it. Woe. Calamity. Guess some scrounger gets lucky."

She is handed a plastic bag with ten chocolate bars and a big green nutri-pak, complete with plastic straw. "Twenty even and stay cool, yeah?"

It is sage wisdom, and acknowledged as such.  In times of lean, you cannot feed others.

"I'll do my best."

She hands over two tens, and her purchases find their way into her many pockets.

Hawaiian shirt waves cheerfully. He and his laconic guard pile into the old truck and trundle out of the market, towards the gate.

Metal Thing Salesman Kid is still around, taking a break in the shade of a stack of old tires. He eyes the leftover box, which looks fairly crumpled and unimportant now that the truck's gone.

Ophelia goes 'psst' at the kid, then nudges the box in their direction before 'wandering off'.

In fact, she'll do a bit of sleight-of-hand to 'grab a chocolate bar from there' herself.  (It's one of hers, actually, but it's still...  Allegedly food!)

The kid's eyes narrow and he stares hard at Ophelia. Skeptical-like.

But he stands up and goes for the box himself. Inside is a few more bars. He starts stuffing shorts pockets.

"What you want, weird lady? Everyone wants something. I don't buy it."

-Oh, it looks like he has a partner, a pretty subtle one. Girl, twelveish, dark skin, who was previously helping at a food stall. Only identifiable now because of the face she's making.

Oh, clever girl.

"I'm a weird lady, obviously I want things like 'fed kids' for inscrutable weird-lady reasons that wouldn't make sense if I told you.  'sides, this wasn't my stuff to 'accidentally lose' to begin with; you want to ask - oh, wait, he's already left; silly me.  ...but - hm.  If you feel like you owe me something, I wouldn't mind hearing what you've been overhearing lately.  Knowledge is power, after all."

Right, this makes total sense. He nods at the sudden lack of confusion.

"Little eyes, little ears. You, mostly. And the usual griping 'bout tower. Pumas beat up a bunch of CoolCool's crew for one of 'em knocked over a bike. I heard CoolCool's not even really interested in this place anymore, and his crew's just gonna dissolve soon. People pass through all the time, barely any'a these customers are actual Bordertown people. Sellers, more of 'em are. That's about all you get for free."

She nods, too, once he's done.  "You're a sharp kid.  So's your friend; almost would've missed her if she wasn't making faces at me, and I like to think I'm pretty good at reading people.  I have to admit I'm curious what has me the talk of the town, depending upon how much that'd cost me."

"It's something you can hear from anyone. You sound like an actress, you've got some kinda combat experience, you're looking for trouble, you're tryna peel someone off from Tower, you might be from Europe or might be just bullshitting everyone. That's about all you get for leaving this box here."

He makes a hand sign at the food-stall partner, who rolls her eyes and returns to her work washing dishes.

"I know things about some people who might not like you much. For messing with their plans, advertently or in. As for how I know these people might not like you much, it's not hard to make basic infer-ences."

Expectant stare: Initiate!

She nods.  "I presume this information costs something."

"Yeah. Friends tell each other things, but you're suspicious. Paying directly for information is not the done thing. But it's sometimes the thing that's done. Going rate's a couple bucks for relevant rumors, and more for hard facts. Even if you don't know me, you don't know anyone else around here do ya?"

He is being So Serious and So Grown Up right now. This is not just conversation but A Contact.

She would smile faintly, but he'd get the wrong impression.  There's still a twitch at the corners of her mouth anyway.  "I know some people.  But you're right that when it comes to information, I know only you."  One of her hands dips into a pocket for a few seconds; it returns with a 'choco' wrapper with $5 inside, and this is shown to the boy.  "What would, say, five dollars, get me, facts-wise?"

"That's about one relevant rumor, or in this case the general idea of what a group's about." He shrugs. "Give or take how desperate the seller or how easy the info is to find."

"Well.  Here, you should have this."  And the five dollars inside a 'choco' wrapper make their way into his hands.  "Dealer's choice on the dossier to give, mhm?"

He snatches it into a different pocket than the rest.

"You should watch out for the Cinci Anarchists. They claim to be fighting for freedom from tyranny, defending from Tower's overreach and that's fine... If you ignore all the people that die when they get into a dust up with Tower. Based way out in the Badlands, they've been poking at Cinci forever and are why Tower doesn't range out anymore. But come to think, it's a little weird that a bunch of anti-government rebels have what it takes to get their hands on big weapons and know where and how to use them, innit? We're not just talking shotguns. Armed drones, machine guns, rockets, APCs like Tower's... Enough to be a pest, nowhere near enough to win." He shrugs. "Plenty of people hate Tower. Enough to supply a thorn in their side and forget about the ones they squish. This is just gossip, though. Just wild guessing."

A hiss of indrawn breath.  "...Oh that is very suspicious indeed.  I've seen that pattern before.  Someone with power and not a single scruple sneaks some patsies into something that would pass for a rebellion if you squint, and points them at people they don't like in the local administrative structure - mayors and such.  Then they're damned if they do and damned if they don't, because the rebellion happened on their watch.

"I'd need to know more about their operations, and Tower's for that matter, if I wanted to really figure out if that sort of thing is happening, though."

"I'm too young and innocent to get too close to sophisticated operations like that," the kid says, completely deadpan. "But I hope the rumor serves you well, I guess. I don't suppose you're looking to buy some ammo?"

"Unfortunately, I don't have any weapons that would use the ammo you have, I think."

"Okay. Be careful around other kids. Some of 'em are psychos, especially Riverside. Riverside is not a nice place."

The kid leaves the now-empty box in the dirt and walks away, pockets stuffed with chocolate.

"Thanks for the warning.  You be careful too."

...That's not a good sign.  Feral children, what is this society coming to?

She'd best start heading out to where she plans to rest for the night; that old railyard is not precisely going to be pleasant to sleep in, but she can at least ward the place properly.  Or rather, one of its outbuildings.

On the most obvious path out from the market, there's a man on top of a stack of old crates, wearing a ragged robe and pacing and preaching with intense gestures. A loose crowd is gathered before him, listening with interest, amusement, or simply because of the volume and force of personality. Some trickle in and out.

Ladies and gentlemen, gather 'round for a sermon like no other! Today, I shall regale you with the tales of the impending apocalypse, a cataclysmic event that will shake the very foundations of our existence. It will be the lifting of the veil, the breaking of the shackles! In the midst of chaos, there lies a glimmer of hope!

The reason for this is simple! We have already damned ourselves! Corrupted ourselves with the stain of technology. Plastic in the blood and circuits in the brain- Is it any wonder such an unnatural state invites divine reprisal? Truly, you have seen the world's grinding turn grow slower and slower! You all are the dirt beneath the heels! The lost! The ones that are not saved by the promise of profit and wealth- But fear not! Picture this: the skies ablaze with fiery meteors, raining down upon us like the wrath of God! The ground trembles beneath our feet, as if the very Earth itself is convulsing with fear. The oceans rise, swallowing cities whole, leaving only remnants of our once thriving civilization.

But amidst this chaos, there is a silver lining, a twisted beauty that emerges from the depths of madness. Is it not said that the Lord walked the earth in the form of our savior, Jesus Christ, sending miracles as the sign of God? So too the signs are evident now! For you see, my friends, the apocalypse is not just an end, but a rebirth. It is the ultimate test of our resilience and adaptability. It is a chance to shed the shackles of our mundane lives and embrace the unknown with open arms. In this new world, the rules are rewritten. No longer bound by the chains of societal norms, we are free to explore the depths of our own desires. We become the architects of our own salvation, forging a path through the wreckage and reclaiming our place as the rulers of this forsaken land.

Gone are the days of boring routines and monotonous tasks. Instead, we embrace the madness that surrounds us, reveling in the uncertainty of each passing moment. Every day becomes a battle for survival, a dance with death that invigorates our very souls. We become warriors, scavengers, and prophets all at once. Already we have seen the signs! The waters have risen in great floods, when the hurricanes of Twenty-Eight came! This was the first sign. The waters have receded and vanished, leaving only barren desert. This is the second sign! As written by Riare. And now soon upon us shall be the third sign, for the stars shall fall from heaven. Those unnatural stars, which mankind in our hubris have placed in the divine void, are one and all failing, decaying and disintegrating into a storm of glittering shards. It shall come apart, and soon!

But let us not forget the importance of community in these trying times. For it is through unity that we shall thrive. We must band together, forming tribes and alliances, supporting one another in our quest for survival. Together, we shall rebuild, creating a new world order that defies all logic and reason. And so, my dear friends, I implore you to embrace the end with open arms and a gleam in your eyes. Ain't none of us going to be saved- Unless we save ourselves! From the corporations, from the greed, the chaos, pollution and unnatural influence! For it is only through the destruction of the old that we can pave the way for the new. Let us rise from the ashes, like a phoenix reborn, and create a world that is truly our own! May the winds of chaos guide us, and may the fires of destruction ignite our spirits. Amen!

"Excuse me!  Question!  What are you actually proposing that people do about this that is not shouting loudly from on top of a box?  What have you done?"

(Though, it should be noted that she is not doing this with her actual face.)