If Liliana noticed that the hunter had come back in and was helping her tidy up the morbid storage room, she gave no indication as she tossed the bloody blanket into a corner. She flipped open her own little leather knapsack (pitifully flat at the moment), and added bits and pieces from the boxes to it; the little metal case, needles and syringes, small tins, bandaging, and a few of the bars of soap. The harvesting equipment was ignored, obviously (she was hardly going to carry on alone, and didn’t really have qualifications or desire to join another harvesting crew), but her long hand hovered over the heavy dagger that no longer had an owner. For a second, she hesitated- something about the elaborate etchings, maybe? Whatever it was,<span style="font-style: italic">something</span>about the engraved bit of dark metal gave her a very strange… tingling feeling, just on the tips of her fingers and the base of her spine. Though she did already have two knives, this one seemed better than the one she had lifted from her dead boss; and it would hardly do any good being left here. She tossed the blade almost negligently into her corresponding pocket, then removed one of the two keys that had inhabited the space.<br/><br/>The man with the scar on his jaw offered to let her come with him, to a warehouse outside of town. She didn’t bother to look at him, and for a few minutes it might have seemed like she didn’t even hear him. Liliana jammed the key into one of the lockers, which cried out for lubrication as it opened. The blonde woman shoved a few boxes containing what she assumed were bullets into her bag, followed by a very dirty and obviously old bottle of redwood brew. She had no interest in the stuff personally, but it was valuable as a trading commodity- same went for the bullets, actually. A few more bits and baubles, things that looked shiny or useful or valuable, followed the other trinkets into the knapsack, including some thick dried vines that made the porcine lump in her jacket squirm against her chest.<br/><br/>The snout poked from her collar, followed almost immediately by the rest of the grunting piglet. He did his customary dive toward the ground, but was swiftly caught at Liliana’s midsection by a wide palm before thrashing himself into a much shorter fall. She casually dropped a long rope of the vine to the ground and he started on it eagerly, gnawing and slobbering to soften the toughness of it. The blonde woman was rather distracted, however, despite the wet smacking sounds coming from her feet; the picture was very old and the frame probably even older. Both seemed dirty, but she couldn’t tell if it was age or actual grime. It was so smudged she couldn’t tell if it was a drawing or an actual photograph, but the figures of a man and woman could still be seen with comparative clarity- the man was obviously Zak. She picked it up and stared for a second, then fished the necklace that she had pillaged from her other co-worker’s neck from her pocket.<br/><br/>Liliana looped the old chain over the corner of the frame, so that the locket hung close to the woman. The locker shut slowly, but when she clicked it closed there was an odd finality in the way she moved her hands. People would come. People would come and break them open and take what they liked, valuable or not, and maybe even burn the rest for no real reason. But in her mind, this was the scene that would stay.<br/><br/>She turned around and leaned against it casually, arms loose by her sides and dead eyes settling on the hunter. Maybe. Maybe she would go. Not like she had anywhere else. The man who sponsored the harvesters wouldn’t take long to learn what had happened to his crew, and obviously he would send people to clear out the storage or more harvesters to use it; either way, she would hardly be welcome as a squatter. Though she didn’t have a preference for any option, she didn’t have many to choose from.<span style="font-weight: bold">“Is he invited?”</span>she finally asked in her quiet monotone, flicking her eyes to the door that had recently felt the press of the giant’s massive figure.