"Right. I may not be back when you return--I have to speak to the mayor about inspecting the poor boy who caught Plague." He shook his head slowly. "It seems unfair, doesn't it? We have so much to deal with, and now a ruthless pathogen is slowly killing us off too. Do me a favor, Malia. Don't eat or drink anything from the town's supply until I can verify it isn't all contaminated. You're the only friend I've got here so far. I'd hate to see you go." He smiled at her as he got out of her way and finished gathering his things, and then left the shack, hardly sparing a glance at the still-open binder. He'd deal with that when he was finished with the plague inspection.<br/><br/>Not that he intended to speak to the mayor at all. Xenophobia aside, he knew that small towns like this were terrified of the plague, and had dozens of strange, baseless ideas about how it spread and operated. Carson had no time for it. He had to see how the boy had become infected, review when and how it had happened. Maybe asking permission would make him seem more gracious than he was, but coming to them with knowledge he seemed to just magically have would sway them to action more readily. He was no hardened veteran, but he knew that much.