34 Spring, 1926
The Neil Motor Works Wagoneer bus bounced about on the old road, steadily putting distance between the passengers and their last stop. After the confines of the van in Port Arthur, the seven passengers had naturally spread out amongst the ten rows of old burgundy, barnaby-hide benches. Lyta was in the back, ostensibly watching for pursuers, though they had not seen another vehicle in an hour and the plume of dust kicked up by the oversized people carrier meant she was staring into an amorphous cloud of iron-rich sienna dust.
Vulpei crept up to her and picked up the conversation that had been dropped earlier, about Lyta's childhood aspirations. "Do you find it interesting that of all the things you chose to tell me in full honesty earlier today, you chose to tell me your dreams? I could hardly imagine a more personal piece of your soul to share."
Lyta shrugged. "It was a long time ago. And most of the stuff we've done recently, I can't tell you. Well, I could, but I'd have to lie. And I suck at lying."