What tall tales hadn’t Nate told about the place? “He got very descriptive,” she added wryly. “He said it was like something out of the Old West, and I see now that he was not wrong.” The scorched earth, the hustle and bustle and guns visibly slouching at bikers’ hips: simply trade the motorcycles for whinnying horses. She liked what she saw, too; the assortment of tents and trailers in a haphazard riot of colour reminded her of home, with its ragtag favelas piled on top of each other.
But Nadia was still antsy and anxious, an energy thrumming through her limbs, and she exchanged a sheepish smile with Bunny upon realising that the other woman had noticed. She glanced at the two of them, pausing for a moment. She managed to shove her hands into her pockets, however, forcing her body to be still and trying to echo some of Nate and Bunny’s casual ease. It’d be rude to simply tear off and ignore their host, and besides, she needed to get the lay of the land as well. “I would love a tour. Besides, it would not do to get lost. I will be visiting someone named Marina afterwards—do you know her, Bishop?”
Info-gathering, as always. Despite the family connection, the other woman was still essentially a stranger to Nadia, and her instinct to pick others’ brains and collect multiple perspectives—about everything—still ran high.