– The Dag moved closer, holding up a
a old tin cup, cold water dripping down
tattooed fingers. “ It’s water.”
She looked the poor man over, brows furrowing
in concern. He looked haggard, skin clinging
to old and bones. Lips were torn, bloody. It was
was a wonder he could talk.
Dag brought the cup to his lips, resisting the urge
to run a hand over his head to soothe him. Cheedo
had told her to be gentle with people. It had
brought out a kinder side of the woman.
“….who’s Magpie?” He had croaked out a name
before he looked at her.
That flit of pink again, stark against dried rust that dotted his lips. Water, Aqua Cola, the most precious and valuable resource within the entire wasteland that was their home. Every War Boy was trained to do without water, to live and fight with as little of it as was humanly possible, but with the illness-burned fevered that heated his body Rook needed it now more than ever.
So when the woman lifted the battled little tin cup to his mouth he didn’t even stop himself from drinking. There lingered just enough common sense to avoid drinking too fast, too much, he was already ill enough right now to add that on top of it but.. it did help some. He still felt like shit, there was no doubt of that, but the driver could feel the water helping to sharpen his senses once more... the hazed dullness lifting slightly.
And she was asking a question.
Now that he didn’t just taste blood and dust, now that his throat had cleared at least marginally, he finally could better answer that. “M’Lancer.” Someone so damn important to him. Almost more important to him than the Immortan had been! ... almost. “Went for tucker t’bring back.” Food, something damn important too, even if he ate little anymore.
Shoulders hunched a little bit Rook took the moment of sitting up to glance around the area, head tilted slightly as he tried to listen to the sounds of the Citadel... both the familiar and the new.
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