By far, this was one of the easier delivery missions Sinclair had -- especially since you were accompanying him. Still, he felt a thrum of relief in his chest when a rest stop came to view.

"We can rest here for a bit, I think," he suggested, approaching the stop and wiping the snow off one of the bench seats. Gingerly, you both sat down.

The aged wood creaked in protest under your collective weight, and the metal awning above seemed dingy at best. But it wasn't the cold, hard ground -- and that was good enough for him.

"I can't believe we're about... hm, halfway done with this trip already," he remarked, pulling his thermos from his courier trunk. Poludnitsa whirred to life, warning about unauthorized tampering, but he quickly waved it off.

"How many miles do we have left?" he asked absentmindedly, sifting through the soup inside with a spoon. "Four? Five?"