Will's right – his shoulders are sore from yesterday's shenanigans, but he figures it won't take too long to recondition himself if he keeps taking jobs like this out at the Lot. It's apparently difficult enough to find people both willing to test drive prototypes and able to... not die in the process that he's already got a few more lined up. He can't imagine any of them will handle as smoothly as the machines he's used to, so his arms and joints will just have to adjust. If he can fit in enough enough jobs, he should have enough to put down a deposit somewhere when his Inn voucher runs out at the end of the week.

By the time he's heading back to the Inn this evening, he's sore all over, hungry, but still too high on the adrenaline rush to be tired. So he swings by a grocery store for some apples to keep in his room – he doubts he'll ever get tired of the taste of fresh fruit; it's still something of a revelation every time, even after all these years – but it turns out that he doesn't recognize half the fruit available. Well then. “Any recommendations?” he asks the first person who stops next to him. He's getting pretty used to this accosting strangers thing.