"Morning, girls. Have you seen Veer and the others?"
Theo turned to see the three musketeers standing together, their arms crossed in suspicion. He kept his tone casual, trying not to appear threatening.
"No," Zara replied, taking the lead. "Something—or someone—guided us here, saying we could get food."
"Of course. And please understand, it was all a misunderstanding. There's no need to give me the death glare every time you see me." He sighed before turning to Ira. "Miss Ira, I'm sorry if I did anything to upset—"
"Shut your trap! This smooth-guy routine won't work on us."
"That's right. It won't work," Myra echoed from behind her.
Theo didn't know whether to laugh or sigh. How were they any different from children? Judging by their ages, they were barely in their twenties. If this hellscape had been around for years, they must have been teenagers when it started—struggling to survive, doing God knows what. The thought made him pity them, if only a little.
