"You tink dat?" Dusty said with a laugh. "Dey tought dat too. Follow me out to da bayou one night. Tink to steal from me and a few of da buzzards end up as gata bait." There wasn't much out there to lose ones life over they'd soon realized. After making his point, they chose self preservation.<br/><br/>"Had a chat with da man dat lead it afta. Like I said, we come to an undastandin," he explained. Occasionally they even did some trading, especially when the hunting and trapping was good. Dusty was one of the best in the area, even before the collapse. He'd been raised his entire life on the swamp and plenty were uneasy around him for those same reasons. The young man wasn't worried about him knowing where he lived though, and for some reason the notion brought a smile to the Dusty's face. He even went as far as to share his story about how he'd ended up in New Orleans, and eventually run himself out of options. For a moment, they both felt just a little more human.<br/><br/>"Noting left for you in Connecticut eida I'm sure. Buzzards everywhere."<br/><br/>Dusty left the truck idling but slung the shotgun over his shoulder before helping the young man get the days bounty out of the back of the truck. He knew better than to drop his guard when he knew who resided in the city. He waited until he'd come back to grab the other things before leaving, thinking none of the way the young man did things was very safe. Dumb luck had gotten him by, and going home that night, the idea of the stranger's luck running out bothered him.<br/><br/><br/>It was a couple weeks before Dusty needed to head back out to the scrapyard. On his way, he decided to pass by the old brick building to check in on the stranger. It wasn't as if his vehicle was quiet, but just in case that wasn't enough, Dusty honked and hollered out the window.<br/><br/>"Ay,<i>Etranje!</i>Wanna go for a ride?"