“All gone,” she exclaims in a thick accent as Marty walks up from behind, probably Russian. “Ruble.”
“Rubles?” Marty attempted as a (weak) joke. She turns. There was gold in her eyes.
Marty checked her profile. She seemed to be an artist, or was at least attached to an art colony. He decided to head there next. Maybe they would have more information about these Ruins of Lustre off the coast of Roost. But not that Roost: a different one. One that Marty knew quite well through Lemon back in the days. Roost Never Sleeps. It’s where Lemon was formed, actually. But it all seemed a big blur now. Too much excitement; too much hot coffee; too much *speed*.
She couldn’t come. She was stuck at this centerpoint, a mere marker. “Goodbye girl with the golden eyes!” he cried while flying away.