Even without the second sun fully risen, he's grateful for his dark glasses. The sand reflects what light there is, and without a cloud in the sky, the glare is already nearly unbearable. Around them, people start making their way to whatever errands they need to run in this Godforsaken place, but they aren't busy or distracted enough not to cast suspicious looks on the two strangers.
Wolfwood gets it worse, but then, he's used to it. The Punisher attracts attention, it always has, and attention, here, is rarely the good sort.
"The larger cities are slightly better off," he tells Michael as he wheels the Angelina II carefully forward. Bar had thoughtfully packed the meat in an insulated cooler; it ought to stay fresh for the trip and then hopefully long enough to be eaten safely.
It's not like ice is exactly easy to come by, here.
"They have plants for energy and water. Places like this are just lucky if they don't get swallowed up by the desert. We're on the edges of civilization now, but we'll have to go another ten iles to get to the orphanage, and that means booking a ticket on a sand steamer headed out that way."
They're headed for the tiny town store -- it's easy to find, the faded, cracked sign swinging above the porch says STORE in carefully blocked letters, and the proprietor is sweeping sand away from his steps.
Wolfwood could tell him it's useless, but does an action's impotence really make it worthless?
For now, he lifts a hand in a wave, grins, friendly. "Good morning."
He doesn't even get to the part about what he wants before the guy looks up, face blank, and heads back inside the building, ignoring them both, the door swinging shut behind him. Wolfwood makes a face.
no subject
Wolfwood gets it worse, but then, he's used to it. The Punisher attracts attention, it always has, and attention, here, is rarely the good sort.
"The larger cities are slightly better off," he tells Michael as he wheels the Angelina II carefully forward. Bar had thoughtfully packed the meat in an insulated cooler; it ought to stay fresh for the trip and then hopefully long enough to be eaten safely.
It's not like ice is exactly easy to come by, here.
"They have plants for energy and water. Places like this are just lucky if they don't get swallowed up by the desert. We're on the edges of civilization now, but we'll have to go another ten iles to get to the orphanage, and that means booking a ticket on a sand steamer headed out that way."
They're headed for the tiny town store -- it's easy to find, the faded, cracked sign swinging above the porch says STORE in carefully blocked letters, and the proprietor is sweeping sand away from his steps.
Wolfwood could tell him it's useless, but does an action's impotence really make it worthless?
For now, he lifts a hand in a wave, grins, friendly. "Good morning."
He doesn't even get to the part about what he wants before the guy looks up, face blank, and heads back inside the building, ignoring them both, the door swinging shut behind him. Wolfwood makes a face.
"That wasn't very polite."