<strong>Ruth</strong><br/><br/>Even having the jacket slung over her shoulder Ruth can feel it soaking up the heat within the first minute after stepping outside. It's a cloth stove across her back, even tempting her fingers to sweat where they're curled under the collar to keep it hanging down her left side. Still, better to be uncomfortable carrying it around now than not to have it if a dust storm kicks up while walking around this heap of trashy huts, barely shelter from those wicked winds themselves. She's been stuck in that position too many times to risk getting her skin torn up again by high-velocity sand caresses. A little discomforting perspiration is small price to pay for being prepared.<br/><br/>But seriously, fuck the sun.<br/><br/>On the upside - well, depending who's on guard today it could be good or bad, really, but let's be optimistic - the added heat means Ruth's sporting a pretty shiny glaze by the time she gets to Esther's hideaway. That's a bit of sarcasm there; no way the biggest pile of shit in a collection of smaller shits is going to avoid attracting attention. The gleam adds some flavor to her deep brown skin, has her tank top sticking to it, the darker circular shadows on her chest probably visible even way up there at the guards' post where they loom through the dampened white cotton.<br/><br/>From the sound of that rough greeting, though, it's not going to be one of the easy days. Oh well, can't win 'em all. Ruth tips her cap back a little as her chin lifts. There's no smile to be found for the pair. "My generous sense of humor," she calls back. "I need a few minutes with your boss to talk about some bullshit going on around here." No nonsense, no cajoling, no humoring their crap. The usual when she comes calling on their benevolent "ruler."