At the food-tent, I had managed to slip two brahmin steaks, four dog steaks, and three little bags of powder into my satchel. The darker it became, the less people that stopped at the food-tent, thus allowing me to take as many rations from the refrigerator as I wanted, though I figured it was safer to take a little at a time. Maybe I would be lucky and they wouldn't notice anything, or if they did, they blamed it on hungry slaves and left me alone.
I felt very hypocritical, hoping for slaves to shoulder my blame while trying to help one at the same time. Oh well, I had always connected more to men than women anyway.
As I neared Arcade's tent, I started to feel a dark aura hovering in the air.
Inside the tent, it was almost pitch-black, but as I focused, I could just barely manage to make out Arcade, sitting in the same place as when I left. As a small sliver of moonlight entered through the open door flap, it caught on a small piece of metal in his hands and glinted back at me.
In a flash, I slapped his hand, sending the metal flying to the other side of the tent. "What are you doing?" I snapped. "Is that a knife?"
"A scalpel, actually," he said, unfazed. "I was planning on disemboweling myself."
"Committing suicide?! What the hell are you thinking?"
"I was thinking that I had the opening to finally do what I've wanted to do for years," he snapped back. "They left me that opening, and it's my duty to take it."
"There has to be some other way than committing suicide—"
"—I'm a slave, Lydia. You might not know how it feels, but being deserted to the lowest status in a world that you tried to prevent is a little overwhelming."
"Okay, buddy, open your eyes just a bit," I said, grabbing a handful of his hair to pull his face to look at mine. "I got in, and I can get out, and so can you."
"It's not possible for me to get out," he argued.
"They left you the damn opening for the scalpel, Arcade. They'll leave you the damn opening for the escape as well, you just have to take the opportunity when it comes to you." I patted his head gently. "After I get my supplies, I'll help you out of here. I'll be your opportunity."
"No offense intended, but why should I trust you to sneak your way past all these Legionnaires with their most well-guarded slave? You can't even properly cover up your disguise—"
"—I do well enough—"
"—and even if you did get me out of here, it's not like I have anywhere to go, or anything to do with my life after what has already been done—"
"You sound like a heartbroken teenager," I scoffed.
"I am!" He clutched at his chest, as if it hurt. "Well, not the teenager part, of course, but…"
"Wait a minute," I narrowed my eyes. "You… you had a relationship with the courier! You're homosexual, and you had a relationship with the courier!"
He glared at me some more in silence, which I took as a silent confirmation to my hypothesis.
"Your relationship with the courier was pretty strong, then, for you not to see the whole slavery thing coming," I continued. "You must have been blinded by your love for him, and then he betrayed you, and sold you…"
The more I talked, the more he smoldered as I hit all the heavy nerves. I've always been good at reading people. Maybe a little too good.
"… So now, right now, you weren't killing yourself to escape from the Legion, necessarily, but to rid yourself of your heartbreak."
"Minus solum, quam cum solus esset," he murmured, bringing up his knees to hug miserably.
I wasn't sure what that meant, but the way he said it made me feel sad.
"Leave with me," I said, gripping him by the shoulders. "Come with me; live a better life. If you're going to kill yourself anyway, you might as well be a little less cowardly and die with honor if you're so certain we're going to get caught. Fortune favors the brave, after all."
"That may be true," he responded, muffled from his knees "but better a cautious commander, and not a rash one."
"Then we'll be cautious and brave. I'll get my supplies, you'll do damn well to keep yourself alive, and we'll wait for the right opportunity before acting upon it."
"When you're ready to sneak past the greatest spies/intelligence gatherers in the Mojave, be sure to go ahead without me. Alright?"
"Who said we were sneaking past?"
"Great," he muttered. "Either you're unimaginably stupid, or profoundly insane. You can't handle all the Legion on your own, trust me."
"Alright," I snapped back, snatching the scalpel from the ground. "But I'm keeping this, and you're coming with me when the coast is clear, whether you like it or not."