“And!?”

“And what?”

Noelle and I were taking our break outside Open Palms, near the decrepit picnic table hidden behind a blown generator sanitation refused to get. Noelle pressed her Black Magic Woman clove cigarettes to pine green lips, blowing to the side so the smoke would remain downwind of me.

“Come on, Ronnie. Don’t play me like that. You met Cibola royalty last night! Like an actual goddamn vigilante as cryptid ...