The cold snow fell from above, landing upon the ground, the trees, the walls, and the roof of the stall that Tiffany and Marco were in.
It was pretty dangerous outside the walls. Even if they were in the stall, they could still get jumped by zombies- or undead creatures in general; Walter, one of the hunters, had stumbled upon an infected bear after shooting down a stag in the forest- before any of the "Wall Boys", as Marco called them, could come to their rescue.
Marco took a glance at Tiffany; even though the world had ended a decade ago, she was still dressed up as fashionably as she could while staying warm. Of course, habits never really died, and she was almost hilariously slouched in her seat.
"You should straighten up. You don't need back problems now, of all times." Marco said warmly, smiling down at her.
Tiffany straightened back up, but then she ruined the mood as she said back, "Your smile reminds me of Mister Silvestri."
Marco blinked, and then he stammered while his face got a little hot, "I don't smile as much as Mister Silvestri! He smiles, like, all the time! Have you ever seen him not smile?!"
Suddenly, Tiffany flicked his nose. "Shut up. We got... someone coming."
"Mercenary or adventurer-wannabe?" Marco whispered back, to which Tiffany answered, "How am I supposed to know? You can't tell an adventurer from any other mercenary. I mean, look at their clothing. I swear, these people have the most insane, impractical, or scandalous fashion sense I have ever seen."
Marco then looked out towards the forest, where the unmistakable clip-clopping of a horse was coming from. Cars weren't used anymore- gas had long since expired; even properly stored, the stuff could only last a max of 6 months. These days, it was just easier to ride a horse.
Anyhow, Marco took a look at the rider himself. Or herself? He couldn't tell. The person was wearing a black full-face mask, a scarf that was probably a bit too big for them, and one of those sherpa-lined jackets; made them look like someone straight from antartica. Not that Marco was poking fun; he could certainly use one of those. He wasn't exactly cold, but damn, that jacket looked a hell of a lot warmer than his.
It took him a little longer than it should've for him to notice that the rider had a Karabiner 98k rifle slung across his shoulder. Now Marco wanted that. Good, reliable guns with enough stopping power to down most threats were hard to come by; Karabiners especially.
"Hey, sir, ma'am, whatever!" Tiffany called out, not bothering to stand from her seat. "You wanna get into the District, you gotta register yourself!"
The person dismounted from their horse with quick, quiet, practiced efficiency before walking towards the stall, their mount trailing close behind.
TIffany took out a large, thick book- half-full of registration signatures, half-full of empty pages- and set it down with a thud on the table, flipping to the nearest page that had enough space for a signature.
By that time, the person was standing in front of them, thick gloves clasped over the reins of their horse. They weren't exactly tall, but they sure as hell weren't short either.
"Just put your name here, then we'll give you a badge and you can go to the main entry gate." Tiffany stared at the person, completely unbothered as she handed them the pen and turned the book around, while Marco's gaze lingered on the rifle, envy creeping into his thoughts. He'd trade his boots for one of those.
The person slowly moved to grab the pen, stared down at the book, and then wrote just as slowly.
K. N. O. X.
Without missing a beat, Tiffany reached under the table, grabbed a big, bright red badge, set it on the table, and wrote Knox's name on it before handing it to them.
"There you go. Main Gate is a 5 minute walk away and a 2 minute horse ride away. Just head left from here; you'll see it. Don't go right, there's no entrances there."
Knox gave a nod, grabbed the badge and gingerly pinned it on their chest, and then remounted their horse.
They gave a small wave, and then trotted off.
With that, Tiffany looked at Marco.
"How much you willing to bet that that was an adventurer?"
"As much as you're willing to bet."