Quill sat in the cockpit of his liger. It had been a little bit since he'd gotten a decent-sized job, but he didn't let that bother him. The past month had passed by odd jobs, given out by odd people, and just enough pay to make it by. Though, at the moment, the rogue could be found taking a break from his typical routine of late. He sat, unbuckled and legs crossed over the top of the liger's display, slouched in the pilot seat, absentmindedly reaching into the backseat for a few munchies. The breeze that blew across the open cockpit was warm, but dry, and only a little bit of sand made it as high as the cockpit today. His gaze was fixed blankly on the horizon, over the sands... Simply enjoying existing for a bit.

"You know, Lir, it's not every day we get to stop and just sit. It's..." the rogue searched for words. "... kinda boring, actually," he finished bluntly. "I suppose we ought to head north from here... There's a town there where we could potentially find some work. After that..." he said both to himself and his liger as he sat up and flipped a switch, lowering and sealing the cockpit. He pulled up a map and traced his projected path to said village. "After that we could keep going north and get to the big town~" He said, singsong. There he simply knew they could find some reliable work, bigger pay, and more exciting tasks. "Alright Lir, let's get out of here." Quill booted the zoid up the rest of the way and pushed forward lightly on the sticks. The liger got into a comfortable, slow run before the pilot got back to his planning.

That village... The one that they would arrive at first... The name and location was familiar, what was it that had happened there again? He knew it had held some significance in his past...

Ah, yes!

A younger Quill trotted across the sand. His liger stood quite a way in the distance. He was completely unarmed and wearing the rattiest clothes he owned, all part of the plan. The boy had made good time for only having his feet to carry him, but he was finally to the outskirts of town. No jobs, no nothing, of late. He'd have to pull this off perfectly, if he was going to manage to pull it off at all. He shook his head to clear it and continued on, practicing his stagger as soon as he started to walk. He had to pull this off, he only had one shot, and he'd have a rough time trying to escape, should he get caught. By the time he got to main street, he seemed to be perfectly ill.

Perfect. He gave a quick smirk, then pulled on the proper expression to complete the act.

He stumbled to the nearest house and knocked clumsily on the door. A woman answered, he was grateful. "Please," the rogue pleaded, "... need, water." He was sweaty from the long walk in the dusk, this would be simple.

"By all means, young man, come in!" the woman answered. A man and child, presumably the woman's spouse and child, were in the room. They offered to put him up for the night, and so they did. He explained to them that his zoid had been destroyed, and that he'd been walking all the way from somewhere in the desert. (Mind you, that by now, the tracks leading to his liger would be completely blown over, filled in by the wind.) They bought it, hook line and sinker. If only laughing hysterically was in the script he needed to fit...

They housed him, and gave him a good amount of food. Food they didn't seem to notice him stuffing into his pockets...

In the dead of night, the younger-Quill slipped from the house, the food allotted to him in pockets. He ran break-neck to his blade liger and got out of town, chuckling to himself at the success of the heist.


"Hmmm...." He said to himself, brows furrowed. It hadn't been something he was proud of, but he didn't know where he could pick up a job at the time, and he was completely out of supplies vital to living... "Alright Lir, I know what we need to do in that village." The liger gave a rumble in agreeance with whatever plan the pilot had concocted.

Before long, they pulled up to the village. The liger was left on the very outskirts of the village this time, and the rogue entered the place with more food than he had left with, and left the village empty-handed. He explained to that family how desperate he was, and the guilt he felt, and he was readily forgiven, particularly since he brought all of his snacks, and a good portion of what he actually had to eat. He left the town with a genuine smile, this time, and set his course further north, where he could get some real business.