Inhale
This job is better than her last.
Nobody shoots at her, nobody yells at her, she can open her cockpit to let the fresh air in when the migraines (less frequent, now) hit.
Exhale
There's a faint breeze, and the highway stretches out into the sunset like a postcard. A courier mech touches down and opens up, the pilot hopping out.
She watches him, and then smirks. Go time.
"Halt, customer."
Her loudspeakers blast her voice down at him, and he cowers. She doesn't power up her weapons, but her suit dwarfs his, and his fragile human body even more so.
"W-What, I'm not doing anything wrong!"
"Proto Jersey bylaw 734-B. It is illegal for a non-staffer to refuel a vehicle at a commercial station. Return to your cockpit and a technician will be with you shortly."
The man looks around, his hands in the air.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Can... Can I go in and buy chips?"
"That is permitted. Have a nice day, valued customer."