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Preacher was taking a stroll because, honestly, being cooped up in her tent was a terrible way to pass time. Plus, she broke it down each morning and stored it up a tree, so neither ranger nor bear would be likely to maul it down. She was, however, getting ******** tired of living out of a tent. It wouldn't have been any better back in the city, she consoled herself.

The slam of a car door down the street startled her for a second, but Preacher dismissed it. Until she realized whomever wasn't driving away. Whatever, if was probably time to get some good karma points for consistently ******** s**t up. Preacher strolled over and rapped on his window.

"Car trouble?"

"That's dumb," she said baldly, crossing her arms. "Call AAA or something." Nosy little thing she was, she leaned forward, peeking into his truck. And then leaned back. Preacher recognized some of the earmarks and looked at Dawson more closely.

She shifted, wondering. "You know, you can park different places - where there are less people. You'd be disturbed less. I'm Preacher."

"Don't be obtuse. Look, I'm gonna be straight with you." It was kind of hard for Preacher to go down this line of conversation - it would mean admitting her own situation. "It looks like you're living outta there, so either you're a liar or a mess." She looked up at him and tapped her foot.

"Either way, I've got suggestions related to that. Up to you, buddy."

"No room for pride among people of the same situation." Preacher made a disgusted face. One day, one day she'd not have to scrape pennies and have a roof and a kitchen and ******** set off the smoke alarm making brownies one day. But one day seemed a while off.

She shifted uncomfortably, making a mental tally. "First off, ya can park near the north side of the state forest, probably. Doesn't seem like rangers come round that way very often. Around here, you might get police poking in where you don't want 'em. Secondly, I know where you can get free showers 'n stuff." She kicked the wheel of his car softly. "Nice to have a car though. Tents get too breezy and rain is a goddamn mess."

She snorted, loudly. "Gyms cost money, big guy. But your boss seems cool. Rangers though.... ain't see the trees for the forest. You could pull a fast one on them easy enough - they don't really care either." Preacher moved around his car and propped her hip up on the side of the hood.

"You gonna try to get a place someday? I am. Though prob'ly have to get a roommate, or five." She made a face. Preacher never, ever wanted to live anywhere like the Home again. But she likely wouldn't have a choice. Was it better that it's be a bit more of her own choosing then before? When you wanted the cake, another crumb didn't seem like much.

"So what're you running from?"

"Nope. Hard to hide a big clonker of a van," she said cheerfully. "You could probably drive in and out, though, and park it somewhere less -" she waved her hand around. "-people-full. And the north side of the park is never paroled really." It was interesting to hear he was actually running to Ashdown. For what?

"Not before, not really. Just now." She grinned at him. Preacher had hitch-hiked up here and had some horror stories from that, but she'd set up tent, she even had a job! Things were looking up if only because she wasn't sure they could have gotten worse. It made her miss being a little kid, though, who didn't have to worry about s**t.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "I probably need a new job, too. I work full time, but it ain't enough, not to save for a down payment on a place. Though, if you want, I can let you know if I see any cheap places after I got mine?" Preacher felt it was important to specify the after part. Her number one was her. "Where you work, anyway?"

"Take the full time, bro. Get a roof, get a cat, live the American dream," she said, an odd mixture of sarcastic and earnest. "Unfortunately for you, I'm ********' made of ninety-five percent real talk, not small talk." She crossed her arms.

"At the police department, so you can call me if ya run into trouble or sumthin'." It made her sound far more important than she was. Preacher fished out her notebook and scribbled her number down. "Here, take this in case you need anything. Don't call for stupid s**t." She thrust it out towards him, looking away.