"Oh, I couldn't," Rose starts to demur, color rising to her cheeks. "I mean, I'm sure I can't afford clubhouse prices." She can't afford anything, in fact. And even if she pulled a crisp fifty out of the pockets of Larita's coat, spending it would only get her a plate of food that tasted like ashes. It needs to be offered freely.

And 'freely offered' is an easier ask when the prices are low to begin with. That's why she usually tries her luck at truck stops or greasy spoon diners. She's never actually been to a proper racetrack before — a track isn't a road, and it's a guarantee that no one there is going to pick her up — but she knows it's not a cheap hobby, and the clubhouse burgers probably cost four times what they'd go for at a dive.