She wants to talk. Just talk.

“You’re a contractor,” Summer deadpans. “Why did they hire you?”

“What makes you think I’m a contractor?” You ask.

“You just have that look about you,” Summer’s blue eyes scan you. “Unless you’re going to tell me that’s your adopted sister and Egyptian aunt…”

“I’m not a contractor,” you lie. “Just travelers coming through.”

“No one goes through Billings or anywhere near Montana unless they’re local or doing business. Which one is it?”

“Business,” you narrow your gaze, trying to gauge what she’s doing. “We make survival guides and sell them on the market.”

“Like, the Wasteland Survival guide?” Summer says, sounding annoyed.

“We didn’t come out of the DC district if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Summer smiles. “I would have arrested you if you had anything to do with that book. Nearly got a team of ours killed last year.”

“More of a trial and error guy myself.”

Your comment makes Summer smile wider. “I haven’t met a contractor with so much charisma.”

“Well, I’m not a contractor.”

Summer’s smile fades in an instant, and she shoots daggers at you with her eyes. “Cut the shit, Warren. If you continue to lie, I’m going to arrest you and your friends.”

You shrug. “I don’t know what you want from me. You want my field notes about Montana or something?”

Summer narrows her gaze. You bluff by taking out a small pocket pad, but she stops you. “Fine. You’re not a contractor. Who are you friends then?”

“Adventures, I guess? We met in Wyoming. Flora’s a bit of a…doctor, I guess? Amara is good with tools. She keeps our gear in check.”

“Gear?” Summer inquires. “What are you packing right now?”

“My silver tongue and devilish looks.”

She rolls her eyes. “Keep the jokes to yourself right now, mkay?”

“No,” you reply honestly. “I haven’t been to Billings, but I’ve always heard it was safe. The law enforcement is brutal and has a low tolerance for ****.”

Summer doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. She studies you instead. “I like you. If you’re a traveler, maybe you could help me with a couple of questions. Billings in an insider group, we don’t go out on any of our explorations of our own…”

She clears her throat and reclines back into her chair. “I’ll let you go back to your friends, but if you’d stop by the precinct before you leave Billings to answer some outside-world questions, I’d love to see you again and work with you a little bit. I can tell you’re smart, so you probably will.”

You stand up after she does, and she shoots her hand out to shake yours. “Pleasure to talk to you. I’m sure you understand my, uh, mistrust.”

“I do,” you grip her hand. It’s soft, tender, warm. You notice her nails are painted to copy her eye color and hair ties. “What if I don’t meet you?”

A shrug replies to your question. “Well, I guess you’re not as smart as I thought you were then. Catch you later, Warren.”