He picked up a stick and jabbed at the fire like he was trying to make it less awkward. The flames hissed, sparks jumping up before settling again.
Still nothing from Liu.
Z-34 tilted his head, eyes narrowing a little, studying him. "You don't talk much, do you?" he asked, not mockingly—just curious, like the question had been bothering him. "That's fine. I used to know a guy like that. Real quiet, real weird, real… freaky looking. Turns out he was a hell of a fighter though."
The silence stretched, heavy but not entirely hostile.
Behind them, B67 had dozed off, his head resting against his arms. 27-C remained awake, back turned to the fire, eyes scanning the dark horizon. She hadn't said a word since the shift began—probably pretending not to listen.
