"Where did they all come from?" Lily whispered, stalking the marked men through her scope. She and Ulysses watched them go about their business from a distance, rifles peeking over a concrete barrier. The skinned soldiers were camped out at a mostly intact diner that'd already been searched by the courier months in advance.

"Always been here, since before the collapse," he replied, the words burning his tongue.

Collapse.

"I know that. I'm wondering why they keep coming back to the same spots. I cleared this place out the first time I was here, and I'm sure you've cleared it out as well."

"Shifting between outposts, maybe," Ulysses said, aiming and shooting one of the tattered men. Lily mirrored the action and sniped another. Quickly, they took down the small group that was semi-aware of their presence. Determining that there were no others remaining outside the building, the two couriers walked up to the camp, ever vigilant, searching the area for possible survivors

"They look like fucking jerky," Lily mused, searching one of the bodies.

Ulysses snorted, "Radiation and dust storms. Weren't always like that."

Lily gave him a look as if to say, "No shit."

The two searched the rest of the fallen marked men, dividing the supplies and ammo they found. The rested for a while, ignoring the piles of rotting gore the former soldiers had been eating. Lily watched the male courier: brooding as he paced. She made no attempt to conceal her observations, letting her eyes scan his form, waiting for him to speak.

"Head inside," he ordered, motioning toward the door. Lily nodded, drawing her pistol and crouching as she opened the door. Ulysses stayed at her heels as they cleared the place, unusually close. There wasn't much inside the building: just a few more of the grotesque men, which Lily took down easily, aiming for their heads and putting them out of their painful, skinless misery. She reveled in the sight of the blood that spurted from their skulls as she sent bullets flying through them.

The couriers searched the building, again, and found more ammo stashed upstairs. Once in the kitchen, Lily got to work dismantling one of the stoves for it's parts.

Ulysses busied himself, blockading the door, setting out their bedrolls. It was almost, domestic.

"We'll camp here tonight. Getting dark," he stated. Courier Six shrugged in agreeance and continued with her work.

"I have wiring, but the heating coil on this one is shot," she mentioned, tossing the wires into her bag as she sat on to her bedroll. Ulysses tossed her a package of freeze-dried apples, which she opened and ate as to avoid another confrontation. They sat, both reading through books and magazines they'd found on the second floor. Repair. Something called 'Soap Operas'. A newspaper or two. Lily further inspected the man beside her as he read with the same casual look he had when she'd woken up in Hopeville. He looked up, grey eyes meeting her own. She quickly averted her eyes back to the old newspaper she was reading. She could still feel him eyeing her, knowing that he wouldn't stop until she said something. "Can I ask you something?"

Ulysses shrugged, somewhat cautiously agreeing, "I assume so."

"Where . . . how did you get your hair like that . . . twisted, or braided? I don't know."

That was it. That was all she was asking, and she clearly acted as though it might make him rip her arm off. "Knotting it with a comb, twisting it, securing the hair with wax until it matures."

She nodded, still curious and stuttering, "Do . . . you think you could something like that in my hair?"

"They symbolize accomplishments, enemies killed, jobs, family . . . "

The girl's eyes narrowed and she leaned in and reminded him, "I killed Caesar. I'm not trying to mock your tribe or you. I know there is symbolism behind them."

She was right. If anything, his tribe would have given her a whole head of the dreads and decorated them with beads and ribbons. He rummaged through his bag to find the necessary tools. "Fine. Not doing your entire head though."

"No! I only wanted one," she smiled in excitement, throwing her newspaper to the side. Smiling was something she didn't do too often. It was strange to him, but not unwelcomed. Quickly, he found the courier sitting between his legs with her own brought up to her chest, arms snaked around her them. He parted a small chunk of her hair behind her heavily pierced ear and slowly began brushing upward with the comb he'd produced from his bag. The strands were soft, gliding between his fingers, and more red in the light produced by the fixture on the ceiling. He finished off the new, still puffy dread with old-world wax and a tied a string he'd use to tie his own if one started to become loose at the base.

"There," he said as he finished tying the sting. "Won't look like mine for a while. Must mature a bit."

Lily stood, stretched, and thanked him before returning to salvage from the stoves.

Ulysses fluff isn't even fluff. It's him awkwardly agreeing to do something for the courier that requires them to be closer than he'd like.

I understand that my Lily might be be kind of confusing in the sense that she is really clumsy/awkward sometimes, but overall she's extremely alert and eloquent and can be really violent and terrifying. She's depressed and reserved, but like all people, there are times when she laughs despite everything. I don't think I've elaborated on this enough yet, but I will be in the future.