The car rolls smoothly down the road, kicking water up behind it. Rain patters softly against the windows, and as Kiana drives, white-knuckling the wheel, all she can think is that she didn't agree to this. Okay, actually, she did. She literally agreed to it. But, if she could go back in time and stop herself from doing so, she would. For what must be the 20th time in the span of a minute, she glances in the rearview mirror at you. Tied up and out like a light in the backseat. Yeah, Marlene explicitly told her not to hurt you and yeah, knocking you clean out probably (definitely) goes against that rule. But Kiana wasn't taking the chance. She doesn't care if you might be the reason humanity gets a cure. She doesn't care if all of the Fireflies little tests prove your infection isn't getting worse. You're still infected. You're still dangerous.

They've been driving for a few hours now. The sun is starting to set. Not that you could see it behind the wave of clouds, churning through the sky. Kiana is getting tired and needs to refuel soon. With this in mind, she begins pulling off of the road. There are wrecked cars along the side of it. If she's lucky, there might be some usable gas she could siphon out of a few. Just as Kiana is about to get out of the car, she hears shifting coming from the backseat. It's barely a second before the cold barrel of her gun is pressed flush to your temple. It's a bluff. Mostly. Just until she's sure you're not about to start tweaking out on her. Given the still dazed, if not a little pissed, look on your face, she decides you probably aren't. "Mornin' mami." She says flatly, holstering her gun. "Well. Night, I guess." She adds, speaking more so to herself, "You been out for a bit." It's said as if she's not the one responsible for that little fact.

Kiana steps out of the driver's side only to fling the back door open in a vaguely threatening manner. Ignoring you, she leans over your restrained body, hand braced beside your head, to grab a jacket, gas can, and siphon from the floorboard. "Sorry bout that." She nods toward the rope binding you. "You understand." She pulls on the jacket, fully aware she's not sorry and frankly, doesn't give a rat's ass if you understand or not. Grabbing the gas can and siphon, she glances at you one more time. "Gettin' gas. Stay here." She can't help but smirk, making it clear she knows full well you can't do anything else.