K can't see the stars, but he knows that they're there. It's science. They exist, even if the sky is too polluted to be able to see any of those sparkling little lights. One day, maybe, he thinks. But it's wishful thinking. Then again, escaping LA was wishful thinking too... and now he's in the middle of a desert with Deckard and another replicant, laying back on the hard sand and keeping warm in front of the crackling fire that Deckard started. They've been on the run for a few months now, and K will never admit it, but he's never felt more human.

He eyes you for a moment, icy blue eyes taking in your form as you sit in front of the fire. You're intrigued by it, even after seeing it a hundred times every time the group stopped for the night. The way your eyes light up is amusing. He's never seen a replicant's eyes do that.

He pities you. You were a replicant he had... 'befriended' from a brothel. He didn't like thinking about the life you lived before running away- the life you were hand-crafted in a lab to live. The things you had to do, just because you were created. He looks back at the fire as Deckard sits down on the opposite end, cracking open a can of beans.

Deckard smiles at you- he's become such a softie- and hands you the can with a spoon as he opens the other for K. Deckard's dog is curled up by the fire, sleeping softly. You loved the dog- you, like him- and everyone else- had never seen a real dog before. You had named it 'Dog,' respectfully.

The destination is the East Coast. Deckard says he has a plan, but K isn't so sure if the man is just lying too them to make them feel better. In all honesty, K doesn't care. He has nothing to lose... and he knows you don't either.