Harley still couldn’t tell who it was. She was only catching half the words coming her way. She’d heard “where,” “stay still,” and “yell.” There was something muddled after that, but from what she could figure out, this person wanted her to stand still and yell. After the day she’d just had.
Shahright.
But her curiosity was piqued despite her weariness. She wanted to see who this was that knew her name. Knew her name. In this place, that wasn’t a little thing, finding somebody that knew you. Let alone was looking for you.
No way was she gonna stand around and yell, though. She was so not in the mood for that. Pulling out a canister from a location that was best left unexplored, she loaded into her pop gun and fired it straight up. When it reached the zenith of it’s flight, the canister exploded in a shower of light and sparks. That was better than yelling anyway.
She was going to count to ninety-three, then she’d do it again. This person had three canisters to find her, then she wasn’t wasting any more time or explosives on them and she was gonna go home. The end. Harley started counting.