As Marcus headed over to the bed on the far left of the room, Oswald followed, falling back onto the bed next to his leader's and sighing blissfully. "Well, boss, I'm an easy enough guy to deal with, I think. A roof over my head is just about enough to keep me happy. Stay outta my bags, don't get us killed and treat people like people, and we'll get along famously." Stretching his arms out and wincing when his wrist didn't cooperate, he groaned. "Damned wrist. I'm lucky I'm right-handed. At least I can get along with that much."

Looking over to the bathroom door, he screwed up his face. "Not sure I like the look that girl gave us when she went in. Almost like she half expected us to do it. Maybe even wanted it, a little, just so she could have an excuse to make trouble. Whatever, let her have her shower. I'll go last." Thinking back on a few of the camps he'd made in the past, Oswald wanted to laugh. This was living in the lap of luxury compared to home. He couldn't keep a smile off his face as he remembered a few of the people he'd left behind. He wondered whether he'd see any of them again.