"So, are they any good?" asked Jones as he watched the two devour his supply of fresh oranges. "They should be... cost me a lot..." he groaned, wishing he hadn't met them at all. They were going to run him out of business at this rate. The trio had gathered in a small office room, a subsection of the place his caravan was trading a majority of their goods to. DERB offices to be more specific. 

Dave had sat himself directly in the center of a couch in the room and was slowly nibbling at his orange as Catherine sat off in a corner on an office chair, cautiously eyeing Dave over the orange that was rapidly being eaten. "I dunno," said Dave, "this one had a bruise on it."

"Ish delishush," Catherine mumbled around her orange, glaring at Dave who didn't seem to notice.

"Hold on a second. When exactly did I say he could have some? He isn't even joining, he just showed up." Jones turned back to said man. "And shutup about the bruise, be happy you even got some."

"Wait, I thought you gave him one? I have both of mine," she said, holding up the other one she hadn't started eating yet but was about to.

Dave just grinned. "Damn, guess I got caught. This is why you should hire more security!" Dave said, tossing his orange up in the air and catching it deftly with one hand. Jones groaned yet again. "Damn thief." he said, but left it at that. He wasn't about to take off a hand like most settlements did. 

Catherine massaged her temples, trying to ward off a headache that was appearing out of confusion towards Dave's attitude and morals. "Oh for fuck's... Dave, can I talk to you in private for a bit?"

"Depends. Are we going to make out?"

Catherine opened her mouth to deliver a witty retort as had been the usual for their interactions, but was interrupted as man walked through the open door. He was tall, a few inches more than Jones even. He also wore a suit that identified him as a fancy pants DERB official. The glasses and reptilian look settled the deal. He appeared to have heard the comment before, but didn't say a word about it other than glaring at Dave. Catherine flipped Dave the bird behind the DERB official's back, to which Dave grinned smarmily.

"Jones Abrams... I'm afraid we haven't met before," he said, extending a hand towards said person. Jones stood up and shook it with a bit of reluctance before sitting back down at the desk. 

"Aye, we haven't. But I know you, Mister Wilkes. One of the major heads in distribution, from what I've heard. You're here to buy the food, right?" Mr. Wilkes nodded, standing still at the front of the room and running his eyes over everyone. 

"I was expecting this to be a chat between two people, not you and your... associates?"

"Oh, just ignore them. Just two people I picked up off the street, and they shouldn't barge in on this conversation. Too much," he said with a look at Catherine. 

The tall man took a seat in front of the desk wearily. "Right, onto business then." He took out a small sheet of paper, looking it over. "Two hundred pounds of food, twenty pounds of produce, ten gallons of alcohol, and another amalgation of various items." Wilkes narrowed his eyes at Jones before sliding another sheet of paper forwards at Jones. "This price is what my supervisors say will work."

Jones grabbed the paper, taking a good look at it, a frown showing up immediately on his face. "Sir, this price is unacceptable. It doesn't even cover eighty percent of the product's cost. Let alone the danger of transporting it across the wastes."

Another narrowing of the tall man's eyes. "The amount stated is what you are going to get, Mister Abrams. I'm afraid the DERB doesn't haggle." 

"Fuck the DERB then," Catherine said. "Bunch of selfish government assholes that couldn't care less about the people that look over if there isn't a profit in it for them anyway. We'd be better off selling to the Lost!"

"Cath!" Jones said rather abrupbtly. "Apologies, Mister Wilkes. I'm afraid my colleagues don't understand the intricate webs that are business. But, I'm afraid I can't accept this price. We lost someone this trip, and I can't afford to make it up if I can't get a profi-"

"This isn't business!" Catherine shouted over Jones. He winced, watching Wilkes calmly and coolly take the verbal abuse without even a word. "This is bullying! You fucking government assholes apparently aren't happy stealing from the poor people, aren't you? Now you gotta steal from the caravan runners too!"

Wilkes turned around, staring at Catherine. He closed his eyes for a moment before laughing. "Another dirty scavenger, voicing their opinion without even trying to make any sense. The DERB is an important factor to the reconstruction of society, and you anarchists can't even accept the fact that this world is no longer the hell that it used to be."

"Yeah, only because everyone is too fucking poor to afford air to breathe, nevertheless rebel or anything," Catherine continued. "We're not buying at that price, so take your fucking self-righteousness and shove it up your ass."

Wilkes stared for a few more seconds, his face only having a slight hint of anger to it. "Then you can find a different buyer, the DERB will refuse to do business with anarchist rats." Jones opened his mouth to reply as the man stood up to leave,but was cut short by Dave.

"Ya know... Those Avant Garde people were offering a damn good deal on supplies up at Heartwood when I was last there. Much more than these DERB guys," he said, directing his statement at Jones, pointedly ignoring the official.

The tall man stopped in his tracks, letting out a groan. "I might be able to change the deal, a bit. Not that it has anything to do with Avant Garde, of course. Only out of the kindness of my heart." The words had a tinge of sickness to them, as if Wilkes had trouble saying them.

He walked back up to the desk. "We can change it to... about seven hundred and fifty. How does that sound?" Jones' eyes lit up as he grinned. "Of course, we accept. I thank you humbly for the kind business you offer us." 

Wilkes sighed, "Right, right. I'll have people unload the supplies and give you your money. I will take my leave... and make sure to keep your pets outside next time." Catherine stuck her tongue out at the man as he left in a brazen display of her immense maturity.

Jones laid his head on the desk as the man left the room, groaning. "Like I said, either the greatest haggler known to man, or the one with the least amount of sanity. That guy."

"'That guy' is still right here, you know," Dave replied indignantly.

"Yes, and you're a good liar as well. You know as well as I do there aren't any Avant Garde in Heartwood," Catherine replied.

Dave just shrugged. "So, how 'bout that make-out sessio- Ow!" He replied, interrupted by a slap across the face. "Sensitive, much?" he added, rubbing his cheek.

"Why are you following me around? And answer without the smarm," said Catherine.

Dave just shrugged. "Curiousity?"

Catherine just sighed with disgust. "Don't just use my previous answers back at me. How come you're also so damn calm and smarmy about everything as well?"

Again, Dave just shrugged. "I dunno."

Jones held up his two hands like little puppets. He then mashed their faces together, making smooching sounds. 

Both Catherine and Dave looked at Jones; Catherine with a glare, and Dave with amusement. "Yeah, that's it," Dave said. "I must be smitten with the chains of love!"

Catherine just replied, "What."

Jones continued with his little play, making the puppets engage in some rather unmentionable acts of love. He even added the sounds and everything. 

Catherine turned around and hit her head against the wall. "I hate you both."

"You seem to hate a lot of things," Dave added. "I'm half tempted to stick around just to tease you. Anyway, I have my own places to go," Dave said. "I'll be seeing you around."

"Thank God, you're finally leaving," Catherine replied.

"You're very nice to the person that gave you a raise and saved your employer," Dave said with a wink, before walking out of the office.

"He's right, you know," Jones said, grinning with amusement. "Well, as much as I like the office, I think its also time for us to go. I'd like to have the caravan moving out before noon, so I'd prefer if we got on the road. I'd also like to get out of this damn DERB zone. Buncha no-good beaurocratic government asshats," he said, with finality.

"Exactly!" replied Catherine.