The Farraday City bus station smells of desperation steeped in false hope and empty promises. CB steps off the bus, reaches for a cigarette, sees the NO SMOKING sign, and mutters something rude under his breath. Jenny is arguing with the bus driver, who doesn’t want to open up the cargo bin to let them get their stuff.
“Destination on your ticket is Jackson,” the driver says. He’s a short, fat man with a thick mustache that, in marked contrast with the rest of him, is waxed and meticulously groomed.
“Don’t worry about it,” CB says.
Jenny narrows her eyes. “I’m not leaving my bags behind. There’s equipment—”
“—we’re not leaving anything behind,” CB says. “Well get everything in a couple minutes.” He scans the terminal carefully.
Jenny looks around, noticing her surroundings for the first time, and sniffs the air. She frowns, and moves closer to CB. “What are you looking for?”
“Not what,” CB says. “Who. There we go.”