Good," Gunner replied, a hint of impatience in his voice.
Ethan tapped his heel against the deck, a nervous habit surfacing. "So, do you want the pitch now or after the next one?"
Gunner shot him a look that could silence a crowd.
"Relax," Ethan said, raising his palms defensively. "I'm not talking about filming; I'm talking distribution, TerraWorld style."
Gunner's jaw clenched as he processed the words. "No chatter about our work."
"It's not our work," Ethan countered smoothly. "It's our results."
"No chatter," Gunner reiterated firmly.
Ethan lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Your party; I just bring fireworks."
"Next site?" Stone chimed in, breaking the tension.
Silas projected a map onto their visors, six red points lighting up along the southern corridor like beacons of urgency.
One point pulsed ominously. "Two hours by road. Four if we take the clean path. Eight if we play nice."
"We don't play," Gunner declared with conviction. "We don't hurry; we arrive."
