"Yes, I thought you might," he says, dropping into a smooth crouch beside her. The radio's orthogonal casing glints faintly in the dim beam of Asadi's liberated flashlight. "Resource-poor environments have a tendency to limit our options."

He rises, flicking the weapon's safety off and cocking it with a brief, metallic snap, sweeping their surroundings for any movement that would indicate a compromised position.

The streets, for their part, remain deserted, and silent.

"But we're pure dead fucking brilliant," he continues, still not looking at her, "so I imagine that shouldn't be a problem."