Faith is perched in the second floor window of an abandoned apartment building.

She's been watching a (mostly) deserted parking lot for the better part of an hour. The car they had previously been using is inconveniently in need of an oil change, and uh, she's not about to chance a trip to the station when she's not entirely certain how a vehicle from 1965 runs. That's whatcha get for going for the classics, she thinks. Next up's going to be something new, and preferably shiny.

She thinks maybe there are people, the post-apocalyptic versions of street rats -- if she's not the post-apocalyptic version of a street rat, who the fuck knows -- skirting along the edges of the parking lot. She also doubts they'd be much of a challenge, judging by how skin-and-bones they look. Faith ashes her cigarette out the window, not particularly caring if it falls on someone's head or anything (and anyway, what are the chances of that). She cants her head to the side, and then abruptly smacks Connor in the arm. It's...just to get his attention, but this is Faith, so we cannot truthfully say it was a 'gentle tap,' either.

"Check out the swank," she says, jerking her chin in the direction of a biiig old Mercedes coupe.