Lost Destinies

↳ 05: Who Signed Up For This?

Lindsay and Minerva were already at their predetermined meeting spot, back by the van. Lindsay was examining her glittery green acrylic nails, looking bored, while Minerva looked like she was about to crash any second. Not that Ramona blamed her, she'd been manning the wheel for days on end.

"You look suspiciously like you got stabbed," said Lindsay passively, sounding uninterested as her eyes flicked to Ramona's bleeding side. Ramona lifted her hand from where she was putting light pressure on the wound, revealing a torn tunic and a sticky red palm soaked with blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"It was more of a graze, really," she admitted. "Could've been a lot worse." Claude frowned from beside her, clearly disagreeing. Minerva just opened one eye and sighed.

"Something for me to sew, again?"

Ramona flashed her signature smile. "You're the best, Minerva."

Lindsay frowned. "How long are we going to wait up for Baby and Penny?"

"Do you even know where they went?" asked Claude, recovering from the bar fight by fixing his hair and smoothing his clothes. He wasn't bleeding quite as severely as Ramona was, and in fact the majority of the blood splatters that had made their way onto his clothes weren't his own. He wiped his nose, the only real injury he'd sustained, and then swore as he realized he'd just ruined his gloves. Well, it was a good thing he always had an extra pair in his pocket.

"Penny mentioned weapons..." She shrugged. "Don't know where Bear is. But we could always ask around for the best place to get weaponry."

"Not looking like this," Ramona pointed out, gesturing to herself and Claude. She rifled through her memories of the tavern, struggling to recall if she'd heard anything about any sort of weapons dealer. She hadn't thought to ask. She had heard someone mention going to watch a few rounds of fablemachy, which meant there was likely an arena close by. But how close by she wasn't sure.

Claude went over to help Minerva pull the tarp off of the van and they all went inside. Like clockwork, they sorted through the day's findings before stashing them, putting everything in various containers and bags. Minerva dangled a wallet enticingly in front of Claude, and he stuck his tongue out and showed off three more. Lindsay dumped jewelry and watches into large sacks sitting underneath the seat she usually slept on, Ramona slid various types of currency into their respective drawers that magically pulled out from under a window in the middle row, and Claude stuffed anything edible into one of the boxes sitting in the back. The car really was beginning to get crowded these days. Perhaps, Ramona thought, they should invest in a trailer. No-too conspicuous.

Ramona finally sat down to eat, opening a bag of dried fruit that had been kicked under one of the seats and sighing. After the events of the previous day, she was exhausted. It was like having failed-heist jet lag. Minerva approached her, holding out a hand expectantly. Ramona froze for a moment, a little behind. "Your shirt," she said plainly, and Ramona gingerly touched her wound, the look on her face contorting as if she'd only just remembered it.

"Right," she replied, and unbuttoned first her vest and then the loose beige blouse underneath and handed both to Minerva, who turned them over.

"I can patch these up. Should probably wash them first." She frowned at the now-exposed gash on Ramona's torso. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. Her eyes made their way over to Claude, as well. "And you?"

He reached up to inspect his bloody nose. "Got some blood on my clothes, but that's all." She beckoned for him to hand it over, and he rolled his eyes, removing his gloves and tunic and chucking them at her. She caught them easily, assessing him for a moment longer before promptly spinning on her heels and heading to the back, presumably to wash and sew up their clothes. Ramona gestured to him, holding out her hand.