"Well, well--Salvador. Fancy meeting you out here."
If Salvador turned toward the source of the voice, he'd see Zer0 perched on the top of a rock pile, spindly legs crossed. Even though he was sitting out in the open, the black sniper rifle in his arms was the easiest way to pick him out from his surroundings. Bad enough that his tannish-brown jumpsuit blended into the desert stone around him; but beyond that, he was a dusty, dirty, grimy mess. The colors of Pandora's dirt were ground into his clothes and caked onto his armor. Zer0 and civilization hadn't seen much of each other the past few months.
Nor had Zer0 and Salvador. Half the reason Zero had stayed away from Sanctuary for the past four months was to escape the company of his fellow vault hunters, lest he get too attached to them. But if he was being honest with himself (which he tried not to be), he already was attached. He'd missed the others.
"You here for business?" He half raised his rifle: a silent offer of help, if Salvador wanted it.
