Quinn took the time to sit down and rest his tired feet for a little while.  His boots were made to last, but they had been around a long time.  They weren't holding up too well after all the time and walking they'd been through.  He took off his makeshift eye cover to let the scarred flesh underneath breathe.  He didn't like the patch getting too moist from sweat.  Infection wasn't something most people survived these days, not with the scarcity of antibiotics.

After a few minutes Jake returned.  Quinn hastily reapplied his bandages, and looked at Jake.  
"No sign of our friend?" he asked, already knowing the answer.  That wasn't necessarily the best sign.  If he was part of the Blood Army, he could be going back to let them know he'd seen people.  They generally weren't the type to let that slide.  People could be holding onto something valuable.  
As for Quinn, the tools he carried with him were relatively free of rust.  If he ever decided to pawn them, he'd find himself in a bit of money.  Not that he ever would, mind.  
"Perhaps we should go on our separate ways.  Harder to track then."