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Vernon is regretting directing his boss to buy this hunk of junk ostensibly known as a vehicle. Not very much, but a little. Mostly because she then made him drive it, and this is a finicky and temperamental beast that keeps listing to the left, but in amounts that change a bit on every single bump. They are driving through what is colloquially called 'the wasteland,' which is a desert about half as hospitable and twice as rocky as it sounds. He is having to adjust often. It's annoying. Not very, and honestly, having a functioning vehicle that is not potentially going to explode is a bit of a novelty for him, but enough that he will think fondly of that other vehicle boss-lady had been eyeing before he steered her this way. That sure would have been nice to drive. It would have been painting a gigantic target on their backs, but still. He can dream.
"Right, of course. But I figure there's no reason not to get someone with some schooling to take a look at it. Before they front up the cash for someone qualified. Can I keep this? I can give it to the folks there for you, they could use the money if I ended up making this trip to show her what the real world's like and nothing else."
"Sure, whatever. If you haven't seen him then that's what I wanted to know. Good day."
And without waiting for a response he pulls away and he and the other officers ride off.
"You too."
He lets out a breath, shakes his head, and then they can resume their journey.
Yvette waits until they're out of sight of the officers, still behaving and looking very dumb and naive and stupid, then takes the paper and looks at it.
"Vernon. Why did we lie to the nice policeman and smuggle a wanted criminal in our backseat."
Z—or rather, Zash the Stampede—pushes the lid of the secret compartment open. "Um."
Someone else is still stuck on that whole 'they almost got shot' thing.
"But, they would've, even if we'd--but that's--"
"That's Julai. You knew it was a shithole, that's what a shithole looks like from the ground, kiddo. 'Police' can just be a fancy sounding official word for a gang."
"I'm sorry. And thank you. You didn't have to." He rolls out of the secret compartment and rearranges it into a regular car seat.
"Eh. We kinda did. I guess we could throw you out of the car now and be done with you, but. Wouldn't sit right. To hell with Julai."
"... Are you just untied now, is that just a thing that you did while you were stashed away where we couldn't see you, you know what, honestly, fair enough. Good job. Gold star."
He smiles weakly and flexes his hands a bit. "I couldn't have let them hurt you."
He looks down at where the gun is back safely in the holster then grins sheepishly at Vernon.