"Does anyone like politics?" She asks, snorting. But she eyes him, catching that bitterness in his tone. She carefully continues coloring, angling her body towards him. "Never had to keep track of this sort of thin' before. Weren't any others where we were, 'cept the hunters."

And there were no politics in outrunning the Crows.

"Kinda shit, really. Came here tryin' to get away from lookin' over my shoulder," Out of a frying pan, right into a fire. At least the political game seemed a hair safer than being hunted. She'd tell him as much. But something about his statement catches her off-guard.

"You're plannin' on goin' back? Back to California? People like us are targets there." People like them are dying there. Wasn't going home at best a death wish?