He scratched at his scruffy beard. “You’ll have to leave again once you post another article. They’ll find you otherwise.”
“I know.” I tipped my head to the long port ahead of us. “You’re riding back with me, right?”
“I am. I don’t like to be away from home too long.”
“Let’s go then. Show me which one is mine.”
We walked at a fast clip, dodging around other arrivals, the water crystal clear beneath the slats in the wooden walkway.
“I have everything set up for you in Port, per your request,” James stated as he jogged up the stairs to an older but renovated train. “You’re really going to hate living there, but that’s what you wanted.”
“The place is a shit hole like I asked?” I queried.
“The worst. There are toads in the bathtub and no roof over most of the house. There’s all kinds of greenery—not the good kind, either—living in there.”
My nose scrunched. “There’s at least one safe room to live in, right?”
James closed the door to the train and tapped in our destination coordinates. “One. Only one. Like you wanted.”
“Thank you. Assuming you’ve also loaded it with food, how much do I owe you for that?”
James shook his head and laughed. “Just send me a picture of yourself when you leave. I can’t imagine what your long hair is going to look like without bathing for days.”
I grabbed the sandwich he had indeed brought for me and waggled it at his face. “I’m not sharing my sandwich with you now.”
Another chortle of laughter. “Then I’ll hog the bathroom the whole time we’re flying. That’s a lot of hours.”
My bladder already rejected the idea. “Bastard.”
