"Don't be so eager. It's two days to Central yet, we'll have plenty of time." He allowed himself to smile and relax a little as she worked into his legs, relieving some of the tension that had built up during the long climb down. When they reached the Growler he paused long enough to dig his rifle out of its hiding spot, then double-checked the clips that held their packs in place. He swung his leg over and sat behind her, pressed in close against her body, and peered over her shoulder to guide her in starting the old machine up. From there it was a simple matter to turn around and start back the way they'd come, across the cracked and ancient asphalt.<br/><br/>When night fell he guided her off the road, to a stand of dense-growing trees on the plains. They made camp under the open sky, using one blanket to keep the thick pad of old pine needles and leaves from touching them, and another to cover their sleeping bodies. No mutants or soldiers found them in the night, and they resumed early the next morning, running on a hasty meal of canned goods and dried meat. Early that afternoon he had her turn off the road, and down the more narrow dirt trail that led to Central. He keyed the code in, and helped her park the heavy Growler with the rest as the heavy doors swung back shut again.<br/><br/>The first place Carson went was his personal quarters, to discard his coat, pack, armor--everything but his more casual shirt and pants and a pair of soft shoes he wore around the bunker. The door Letto had managed to open remained so, the hall beyond well-lit, and after Carson took another set of painkillers he found himself standing in front of it, arms folded, frowning thoughtfully at the space beyond. He could see where the hall split, and signs mounted on the ceiling pointed either way. One read<i>DORM</i>, and the other<i>MESS.</i>Further down the hall it split again, though the signs there were too badly aged to read. "Dorm and Mess," he murmured, mostly to himself. "What the hell does that even mean?"