It's fine for them, it'd take more than a dry desert to kill an independent. But that didn't explain where their missing sisters were. He could guess, depending on the year. "Oh, yes. Run away. That's precisely what I want you to do." And meanwhile, he'll drag their attention in another direction. Vash the Stampede was bad, a walking disaster, but many of the non-Terran humans also favored him highly.

His brother, on the other hand.. "And no carrying, I'm not that old yet. If I've gotten so slow that humans can catch me, I'll deserve it." And by the thin echo of disgust to his tone and expression, he has no intention of being caught.

That echo of a distant cry suggested where they should be looking, though. "..More or less. But black hair, not blond. A bit taller, more.." Knives hesitates for a moment, considering how to try to not make it sound insulting. "Worn." Like rocks in high wind, scoured by the sand and time. "The future... is not particularly kind to you. Wasn't. I suppose there's time to change some of that, if the Terrans mind their own business."