She looks up at him (And damn it, that's going to take some getting used to. She matches most war boys for height within a few inches...), brows knit thoughtfully as she tries to parse what she knows of history. Her time is measured in seasons from the founding of the Green Place, and days from the founding of Joe's Citadel, and moon cycles from the end of the Road War. None of that really helps her equate '1896' to today, or figure out how long ago it really was. But she's guessing several human lifetimes. That's impressive enough to go on.
It also firms up her opinion that for all his charisma and savvy, Joe was a fool more often than not. The amount of knowledge the Spine must have is staggering. "Anything you can share with is would be appreciated," she says, and hopefully manages not to sound too eager.
"Not right out here, though. The Rig is parked just inside the bridge gate. We can--"
She pauses at the sound of running feet, distinct in the quiet street, and puts her hand on the holstered gun at her hip. It's a needless precaution, though, because the man running toward them is one of her own crew. He staggers to a halt when he sees her, waving frantically and out of breath. "Boss! Boss, there's somethin' you need to see..."
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It also firms up her opinion that for all his charisma and savvy, Joe was a fool more often than not. The amount of knowledge the Spine must have is staggering. "Anything you can share with is would be appreciated," she says, and hopefully manages not to sound too eager.
"Not right out here, though. The Rig is parked just inside the bridge gate. We can--"
She pauses at the sound of running feet, distinct in the quiet street, and puts her hand on the holstered gun at her hip. It's a needless precaution, though, because the man running toward them is one of her own crew. He staggers to a halt when he sees her, waving frantically and out of breath. "Boss! Boss, there's somethin' you need to see..."