Walking was a task that was wearing on the captain. He'd marched through hell and back again as a member of the Independent Army. But that had purpose. There was set goal, a mission. In this place, in this part of town -- while he had the mission of finding the others, it was the proverbial needle in the haystack.
Why couldn't the doctor have been more useful?
While he would have liked to think any member of his crew would make reuniting everyone their top priority in a situation like this; this was a stark reminder that it was his responsibility.
Crossing along the white lined pedestrian walkway, with this new sophisticated surrounding came new enticing scents to punch up the atmosphere. The spicy, sizzling scent of cooked meat. Real meat, not ultra-processed-mostly-artificial protein substance. The bubbling chatter of polite conversations wafted in on the breeze as well - the combination drawing Mal's attention away from his thoughts and to the notion of food.
The hospital food at Simon's work had not been far off from the packaged rations he'd been used to. But this, he observed, pausing in front of restaurant, was the real deal. Its patrons so ignorantly enjoyed their meals, as if they didn't understand the scarcity of un-processed nutrition. It was astounding.