Swamped

"Well... There was something on my mind. There's been a number of attacks on Guild wagons lately. Heard about them happening in lots of places. We've got no clue who's doing it, because there's never any sign of the drivers afterwards. So, y'know, I was kind of worried they might be after me."

That might hold up against whatever Long knows already. Though his face doesn't give anything away. You've got no idea what he's going to do next.

"Where were you headed?"

"Nowhere, I was just trying to get away. Wasn't thinking clearly, I swear."

"Really," Long muses. "It seems odd that you'd take such a large swerve towards a sandstorm if you simply wanted to flee."

Dammit. Well, you're pretty sure you can talk your way out of this still.

"I figured it'd help to shake anyone on my tail. It's what the crew that caught me did last night, after all."

Long looks thoughtful.

"You'd need some time to get the shelter in place, even if you convinced Starling to help you."

"I've said it how many times now, I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't have a plan, I was just doing whatever fool thing I thought might work."

Long just sits still for a while. You don't know if he's plotting his next move, or if he's already decided it and he's just trying to make you uncomfortable.

Finally, he speaks up.

"Your hostage was sick. Were you aware of that?"

You have an uncomfortable feeling he's going somewhere you won't like with this.

"Kind of guessed that from the medical gown," you say. "What's your point?"

"Just that you seemed strangely unconcerned with how contagious she was. I'm wondering why."

He's still tough to read, but he must be damned sure he can nail you with this somehow. You've got to be real careful how you answer.