Jax is fine with walking and talking and, as he does, he fiddles with the wristband. It doesn't seem to be coming off and it does seem to be red. He doesn't know how he's gotten thrown into this camp but he guesses it's no different than the black. It's still a shitty color and a shitty division of the group that probably means less than nothing. He's been in prison often enough to know how these things go.

"Glad you came back through. You're one of the only people here who has any sense," Jax says. He likes Claire. She doesn't take bullshit, no, but she also seems to understand what it's like to live in a world that isn't some medieval shit or spaceships - her shit is real and tangible.