"Katie?" Max couldn't help but repeat the name. It was best to do so; if that was to be Furiosa's assumed identity, then he needed to get used to saying it. Honestly, it would probably be easier than he'd like. He could count on his fingers how many times he said her true name.

"Mmm-hm." Furiosa squirmed in the passenger seat of the Interceptor, trying to get comfortable again. She had just returned as Max was portioning out morning rations from what was left of their food and water. The two took their breakfast into the car to avoid any possible prying eyes and straining ears, and it was only then that she revealed the good news and the request that he do his best to call her Katie.

"Why Katie?"

"It was the name of one of my mothers."

"The Many Mothers?"

"The Many Mothers," she repeated as confirmation.

Max hummed to himself and continued to eat his meal. "What of the fathers?"

She couldn't help but sigh - it was such a heavy question, one that she wasn't even sure she had the best answer to. Furiosa thought it was almost better to blow it off. It seemed as though there had always been a curtain drawn over the whole reason of why the fathers - the men, in general - were hardly, if ever, seen. Surely she would have been informed of the proper situation when she had gotten older, but the Citadel stole her away before she had been mature enough to learn.

Max had a right to know as much as she knew, though. He'd end up finding out sooner or later. He was her key to making it back to the Green Place, but he had the right to back out. It was likely now or never. There was no telling how accepting they'd be of him, or if they'd segregate him into the fathers, though her word should be enough to keep Max with her. If they were going to anyway, they'd force it on him or exile him from the entire region. Furiosa knew that would spell certain death.

"They're kept separate from the women," she began after finishing off the small meal bar and washing it down with water. "The children grow with the women, but any boys are sent off on their 5000th day to live with the men. I don't know how far away they live, but it's far enough to never see one unless a convoy's come for a meeting."

"But why keep them separated?"

"The men are a second class. It's the only way I can explain it - and know how to explain it. They don't tell the young ones, but I suspect they have their reasons. If they wanted to make men out into boogey-men from the start, they would have, but I'm guessing they would wait until the girls were old enough to understand. Won't get pregnant if the father's made into a monster."

"What's the point, then, of having kids if you end up treating the father like that? The son like that?"

"I don't fucking know, Max, it's just that the women who wanted them had them and they either accepted it or didn't fight it. Some odd obligation to continue the human race? If it was anything beyond that, I don't know. I was young when I was taken, don't forget that. My perspective's only what I've seen and heard and how my experiences have shaped it.

"You know, when the Citadel stole me away, I thought for the longest time that it was justified. Joe did some of the worst things he could ever do to another person, to me. I hate him. I hate the Imperators. Hate the idiots I had to bump shoulders with when I was a War Boy, and the idiots I had to do trade with in Gas Town, the Bullet Farm, Bartertown. A lot of them were outright nasty, underhanded, bottom of the barrel scum. Everyone else fell in line behind them or never made the effort to break the mold."

"What of the Ace?"

The question made her groan. Ace had been complicated. "I knew him for a long damn time, ever since I was cast down into the War Boys. He was... he was a friend. We were loyal to each other, but I thought that at the end of the day, his ultimate loyalty was to Joe, and that wasn't something I was willing to negotiate." It was a good enough answer, though. Max offered a hum and something like a nod in understanding.

"When I first saw you above the Powder Lakes, I thought I was going to have to kill you to take your car." That was enough for Max to turn fully in his seat and look at her with bewilderment, as though it was a sentiment that she still carried. "You looked like a wild man with that hair and that beard. War Boys called people like that feral. They hunt down ferals for the blood, think that fighting's in your blood, so they put it in those that are dying. I can't say for sure that I felt that way or thought that worked, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid to handle you alone.

"I thought you'd shoot me, the way you had me like that. You could have done anything, but instead of doing what I thought a man would do - beat me, kill me, rape me - you saved me. You handed me a gun and somehow trusted me not to kill you. You let me keep the knife, kept your own distance, always offered me the out with no strings attached. To an extent, you didn't seem real. Never met a man who didn't look at me like a target or a piece of meat.

"Despite all of what happened, we're here, and suddenly it's different. No one's out for a fight or a fuck. I'll have you know, I almost had that man cowering because he was afraid of me. I almost had him in the palm of my hand. It's like the men here are actually human. Normal. More like the Vuvalini than anything else." Furiosa's face tightened as she came to grips with the idea that the men outside of the Green Place were more friendly and more welcome than those who had once been part of it. "Makes me think."

Max listened intently to her, but had no idea what to say to her. Maybe it was best to not say anything at all. How Furiosa dealt with the Green Place was better to be left to her, even if she had done her best to give him all the facts. Her perspective was unique to herself, and there'd always be something he wouldn't get. In the end, he stayed quiet, and the cabin of the Interceptor fell again into that same familiar uncomfortable silence that they had sat through many times before.

They were saved from it as men began to pool into the car lot, swarming onto and into many of the same vehicles that had abducted them and taken them in. One by one the cars and trucks started - at the end of it the noise was loud enough that people were beginning to take notice of it, and once again made their way to the open square near the front gate.

It made Furiosa nervous as she watched Max keep a sharp eye on the cars as they pulled out. If he wanted to, he could leave. This was the time. What would he do, though? Leave with her at his side? Offer her the chance to stay, or force it upon her? Or in the end would he stay?

Surely, he'll stay, she thought - he hadn't gone to get their weapons, but she looks down and her gut sinks. His shotgun is in its holster, the pistols surely hidden elsewhere. Max must have gotten them when she was busy working with Gideon on his daughter's arm. Of course, he did. It shouldn't surprise her anymore.

When the last vehicle was gone for the lot, Furiosa waited for it. She waited for something - anything to happen. The Interceptor would begin to pull out - he'd reach out and open her door - he'd turn and ask her "do you want to do this?" - and she doesn't even know what she'd do. There were less guarantees out there than there were inside the compound, but one of them was that they'd be going to the Green Place, and that very nearly trumped all.

Instead of doing what she expected him to do, Max opened his own door and shuffled out, meaning to travel towards the square. He paused as he was about to leave sight of the car and turned around to look at her. Silently, he waved her on - come look at this - and she followed. Max waited for her to come abreast of him before the pair continued through the rough maze of shacks, following the very last of the people who had come to watch.

They couldn't help but feel weird as they spectated from the rear of the crowd. It was easy to see that the people in the convoy were preparing to depart as usual, interacting with the men at the gates in order to make their exit as smooth as possible. The others that had gathered - the proper civilian population - simply watched. Occasionally, one of the crowd would break through and approach one of the cars, one of the convoy and say something, kiss them, hug them, do whatever. Furiosa could spot Gideon, could spot Millie being held up by a woman so she could see above the heads.

"They do this every time, in case you want to know," spoke a quiet voice behind them both. They turn to face the source and find that it's Chuck, one of Gunner's men. "They want to see all they can of their family before they leave, in case they don't make it back. Families want to do the same. It's, uh... don't try to interrupt it." He moved to disappear into the shanties, but nervously offered a final parting word. "Good chance to do some trade with the, uh, people who aren't as invested."

It's not a bad idea, and the two of them are easily persuaded by it to leave the square and make their way back to the car to pocket what they can bear to part with. Unfortunately, there's not much - trinkets that had slid under seats, shards of colored glass, Max's sheared hair. There was the mortar, of course, but the question was whether or not it was something they could trade. Not everyone's looking for a signal flare, especially traders who only deal with civilians.

They took it anyways and began looking for the traders - Furiosa was the first to find them, a row of shacks with chest-high holes cut out of the paneling to face the path. She stopped him before he could go any further. "Are we looking for anything specific?"

He can't say for sure - he's led a relatively spartan lifestyle, keeping only what he needed and conserving the rest to trade for ammo, rations, or guzz. "Rations and guzz," he confirmed aloud, and she nodded in response. The short list made sense; Max had his eyes on getting out. There was some hope that he was planning on taking her with him - if she wasn't going to, he would have given her free reign to not get something that was vital to life on the road.

Furiosa forced herself not to read too much into it. Maybe he was using her. Admittedly, a lot of what she was carrying was not what she had personally collected herself, so it would make sense that she had no right to exchange the items freely. It deflated her, and she did her best to drive all thoughts of it out of her mind. Focusing on his plan would only do harm. She knew that all she needed to do was ask, but if she got an answer she didn't like, it would drive a wedge between them and probably only expedite his departure from the compound.

For now, she'd go along with it. There'd be no knowing, no wanting to know. There was only what she knew, what he said, what the two have gone through, and the context and perspective it provided her. He hadn't given her a reason to worry much before - barring the Highlands, which was still a frustrating thing to comprehend - and hopefully wouldn't start now. Max had enough sense and cared enough not to.

It was easy to find what they needed to. The food and guzzoline distributors had a much more elaborate front and a much larger building. Neither of them budged much - they never had a reason to budge, and figured that they shouldn't mess around and try to dictate what each item was worth. The mortar netted them the most supplies, almost double what the rest of their offers had earned them combined, but in the end it was not a lot. Two 5-liter guzz cans - "bring 'em back if you can, when you top up?" - and two days of dry rations. Not a lot.

While they were happy to get what they could, it was very clearly not enough to get where they - they? wanted to go. The huge guzz tanks Max had rigged up in the back of the Interceptor weren't even a quarter of the way full. Their food and water wouldn't last them outside of a week. It was easy to tell that they should have just traded what they wanted. If they were to get what they needed, they would have to work long and hard, and they would need to start today.