"At this point, it's more like a friend," Emma muttered, setting about cleaning what remained of her equipment with a cloth and some high-proof spirits she'd managed not to drink. She supposed, rather half-heartedly, that she ought to start weighing the financial consequences of using what was left of her supply, but damn if she couldn't shake that uncomfortably-warm feeling of doing something moderately productive for once. "Singular. It's...been awhile since I've been out there."Enrique nods his approval. Least, that's what you think he's doing. Hard to nod properly when you're shot through the not-quite-neck. "You mentioned you had some friends over in East Boneyard? Might have to go back and tell them what's up after all this."
"What I'm trying to say is, thanks, doc. Was all ready for them pearly gates too, after all this dirt."
"If nothing else, I haven't come up with a good enough reason not to see my parents on the way." Putting the equipment away, she smiled to herself once again at a job well-done. "Er, anyways. You can thank me by staying out of trouble and making sure you change your bandages regularly. Infection's a bitch, but so's a doctor whose instructions weren't followed."
Emma shot a glance towards Larry, then down to the bottle of scotch she'd planned on turning into a Molotov cocktail if the Jackals had kept at it. Very pointedly looking away from the latter, she turned her attention to more pressing issues. "So I...haven't had any real food in at least, uh, two days. And Bobby and East Boneyard here should probably eat something before we hit the trail..." Suddenly, she peeked her head into the kitchen where the rest of their 'caravan' waited, and called towards Renee: "Wait, we are taking them with us, right?"