Goat's Milk

Two vagabonds are on an open train cart. They are riding with the cargo across an open desert. It is hot.

Ratagan

Think anyone’ll be waiting for us here?

Varashim

I hope supper. I haven’t eaten anything but these stupid nutrient tablets since Tuesday— but this far north? Up here they still drink straight goat’s milk. I doubt these canyon fodders have a wire to a sheriff, let alone to the city.

Ratagan

Hey, my cousin grew up in one of these outposts. It’s backwards and there’s no working toilets, but you’d be surprised what they catch downwind— gossip spreads like the flu around here.

Varashim

Cause they got nothing to do, that’s why. No ambition. Just a bunch of farmers chit-chatting about what other people’s got.

(Varashim brandishes his blaster with a twirl and then holsters it back into its pocket.)

Ratagan

Varashim. I don’t know. If it weren’t for the toilets, I’d settle down here.

Varashim

Get off of there. I’ll die of gout before you even get enough for a speeder— you love your drinks way too much. And they ain’t got that shelf stuff down in these parts.

Ratagan

Yeah— if I didn’t love a good drink, I’d be swimming in credits. Drinking goat’s milk— alas, my heart wants what it wants.

Varashim

—wants what it wants. Fucking goat’s milk. Who in their right mind milks goats?