Snippet #1189945

Jeph sat in his usual place when he and Mitch were traveling; on Mitch's shoulders, laying down. He pulled out a bankroll, flipping through the available funds and doing quick calculations in his head. "Alright, mi companero, we have enough for either you to get fuel, which you desperately need, or for me to get food, which I could use, but don't need as badly as you need fuel." Jeph spoke, counting out the necessary amount and hanging it in front of Mitch's 'head'. "Get food, fleshbag. I can scrounge some fuel from some wreck or something. You need nutrients; you're a twig, man!" Mitch fired back, shifting his head away from the bills. Jeph merely sat up and followed with the bills, smirking a little. Mitch was not as amused, and reached a tree-trunk of a metal arm up and plucked Jeph from his shoulders. "You know what's keeping me from throwing you into a rock right now, my organic compatriot? Nothing, nada, not a thing in this accursed earth besides my friendship with you. Now, you're gonna eat, and I'm gonna make sure you do, or I swear on my guns I will shove that food down your skinny little throat. Got it?" Mitch growled, dangling Jeph a few feet from the ground. "Alright, I'll eat. Cool yourself, rustbucket." Jeph replied grudgingly. He had become overly concerned with Mitch's well-being as of late, as he owed Mitch a debt for saving his skin on that fateful day. Mitch chuckled, and replaced Jeph on his perch, increasing his pace for the settlement ahead of them. "Mitch, where are we?" Jeph asked, leaning over and squinting to see the the sign declaring where in the blazes Mitch had taken him. "I believe this is Rubbledon, my overtly nosy passenger. I'm taking us to that bar over yonder. See it?" Mitch replied, pointing towards the establishment in question. "Well, hurry up, man. I don't pay you to taxi me this slowly." Jeph said jokingly, sitting up and putting his legs on either side of Mitch's head. "You don't pay me at all!" Mitch fired back, increasing his pace a tiny bit. "Why would I, if you move this slowly?" Jeph smirked, ducking slightly. Mitch ducked even further, approaching the door of the bar in question. He ducked, and squeezed his considerable bulk through the door, with Jeph hitting his head on the doorframe slightly. After they entered and found their seats, Jeph slid down Mitch's steel frame and into his seat. "What if I told you I had some emergency cash so you could get fuel and I could get a meal?" Jeph asked, producing another bankroll from his boot. "Jeph," Mitch intoned. "Yeah, my steel guardian?" Jeph replied, chuckling. "I hate you so much right now, fleshbag. You don't even know how much I hate you."

As Mitch's fuel and Jeph's food arrived, Mitch became slightly more jovial, and Jeph became more silent. Mainly because Jeph was stuffing his face with the most he'd eaten in a good two or three days.