“Go gussy yerself up, Willow,” Wyatt responded, and turned back to the window. Willow left him, knowing he’d consider her words even if he didn’t seem to have heard them. Much of what happened between captain and doctor was unspoken, a mutual understanding between opposites.

Willow returned briefly back to Sam, where he lay under the tender mercies of the bone knitter. Sam moved restlessly in his medically induced sleep, fighting the currents of unconsciousness. The machine’s professionally pleasant voice chided him to lie still, but like the stubborn fellow he was awake, the slumbering Sam persisted. Disjointed words escaped him as he breathed, nonsensical bits that Willow attributed to the drugs, nothing more.

Stepping around the machine bent over Sam, the former Companion touched the bandages wound around the pilots head, and re-arranged them so that his eyes were no longer covered. She’s seen his twitchiness before, a sort of coiled violence that lay none too far beneath the surface, and feared what may happen if Sam awoke, alone, and couldn’t see where he was. Her slender fingers tugged at the bandages gently, and stroked Sam’s closed eyelids until the frantic movement beneath them slowed, the man slipping deeper into more restful sleep.

She picked up the folded kimono and found one of the bedrooms to change again, exchanging cotton scrubs for silk once more. Though the black and gold kimono looked traditional, it has been designed for Companions, and so could be worn many ways. Willow had worn it in the traditional style during their arrival, with the front wrapped tightly and the gold obi tied in a bow behind her, but now she refolded and drew the silk around her shoulders more loosely, so that her throat and shoulders gleamed above the fabric. The obi was rewound into a thinner length of fabric, and wrapped around Willow several times, starting high, just under the curve of her breasts, criss-crossing her waist before being tied low on her hips, the knot draped over her left hip. The effect was such that the kimono looked as if it was barely held in place by the belt, and a mere tug on the golden rope would send the silk to the floor.

Now, Willow turned her attention to her hair, finger-combing it into several rough sections, then piling the sections up onto her head into a lover’s knot. The knot was loose just a touch off-centre, with tendrils escaping to fall softly around her face and neck. The butterfly pin and cherry blossom spray held the heavy tresses in place, but again, the effect was that of imminent surrender.

Without her makeup kit, Willow could not do much about repairing the effects of the day on her face, so instead, she cleaned off much of her earlier efforts, smudging what was left of eyeliner and eye shadow artfully into her lashes and under her eyes, giving her a smoky-eyed, sultry look. She always had her lipstick with her though, folded into her obi, and she added a fresh touch of scarlet, the colour matching the peonies on the kimono.

The Companion returned to where the others were waiting, but before anyone could comment, the doctor came into the room with the prettiest young man Willow had seen in a long, long time. He was slender in a way that some young men are, and the black suit fit him as if it were painted on him by a master artist. His black hair was glossy, setting off his pale chiselled features beautifully and his blue eyes sent warmth flooding through her. He was a delightful confection of a man, all spun sugar and dark honey, and Willow remembered how hungry she was.

He said something as he entered, something about evening and birds and the Alliance, but Willow scarcely heard, watching his lips move and wondering what they’d feel like on her skin…they looked soft and warm. He caught sight of her and his own words faltered. He came over to her as if drawn by her gaze, and Willow turned her face to him as a flower seeks the sun.

““I have never had a dream come true before, until now,” he said, and Willow’s smile became fixed in place as she remembered how spun sugar, while tasty, wasn’t always satisfying. She searched his face, seeing sincere admiration, smug assurance in his own charm, and a profound lack of depth beneath those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Merciful Buddha,” she breathed, as it was clearly expected of her to be impressed,” I’ll bet that line works wonders with all the girls around here,” she continued lightly. When Blake’s face registered shock and confusion, Willow felt almost sorry for the boy. She reached with delicate fingers and touched his face, marvelling at its softness. “Don’t worry, love, I don’t mind”, she breathed gently, her voice curling around him, “you’ll do just fine.”

She bridged the gap between them and slipped her arm into his, looking as if she belonged there. She cocked her head at the captain and smiled sweetly at him, lowering her lashes in a slow wink. “You don’t mind if I switch partners for this part of the dance, do you, Captain-San? James here is going to tell me all about himself, and how much people around here look up to him, aren’t you, honey?”

“All right, Mr. Blake,” Wyatt drawled, not even batting an eye at Willow’s seeming capriciousness. “I appreciate your message-bearing skills an’ all. Now, might ya be willin’ to impress me something more by tellin’ me where ol’ J.W. is?”

As the group left the doctor’s, Blake holding Willow by the arm, Willow began talking with the boy, asking questions and seemingly enthralled by the answers. Anyone listening would initially think she was merely flattering the young man, but she was adept at getting him to talk about JW, Brigid, his parents and even the few Tong he’d encountered in his sheltered life.

Into Town, 4:00 pm
“I have never had a dream come true before, until now,” James Blake said, expecting the woman before him to blush humbly and perhaps turn her head, which was an opening from a quick kiss and then he was in…

“Mighty pretty words… almost as pretty as dem shoes.” The young man with the milk bottle said as he let out a little cough. James Blake didn’t look over at the offensive boy but remained fixed on Willow. He had already summed up this kid as a possible rival for the affections of the ladies in town. James could always pay one of the local boys to mess up his face if he was too much of a rival.

Merciful Buddha,” Willow breathed,” I’ll bet that line works wonders with all the girls around here,” she continued lightly.

“Huh?” Blake mouthed rather stupidly.

“Don’t worry, love, I don’t mind”, she breathed gently, her voice curling around him, “you’ll do just fine.” She moved into his arms and James was content, even if she wasn’t acting in a way he was expecting.

“You don’t mind if I switch partners for this part of the dance, do you, Captain-San? James here is going to tell me all about himself, and how much people around here look up to him, aren’t you, honey?”

“Huh? Yeah. Of course I will my dear.” James replied like he wasn’t sure.

All right, Mr. Blake,” one of the men asked, “I appreciate your message-bearing skills an’ all. Now, might ya be willin’ to impress me something more by tellin’ me where ol’ J.W. is?”

“JW? I don’t rightly know. I imagine he’s around here somewhere. No place else to go.”

Doc McGuire shook his head, “Don’t think to hard on it Jimmy. You might hurt yourself.” And then to Wyatt, “Like I was saying, try the Lawrence first.”

(Assuming you will pack up and head to the Lawrence Saloon using the streets and not through the Tong’s backyard again)

Wyatt and Asher take the lead as James and Willow follow behind, arm in arm. James seems to be doing a lot of talking, prompted by the occasional question or comment from Willow.

As soon as you approach the streets of the town, people start to see you and greet you with big smiles.

“Good Afternoon Sheriff.”

“Howdy Sheriff. Mighty nice to have you in town.”

“Sheriff. Good to see you.”

I baked my special apple pie for you sheriff! Just to make you fell comfy here.”

(you can choose your response to them)

As you round a corner, a man sees you and starts moving towards you. He is an older gentleman, well dressed in a tweed suit that has seen better (and thinner) days. He has a mustache and wears a bowler style hat. “Excuse me! Sheriff! Charles Caesar of the Frisco Star. I was wondering if I could have an interview, or a few moments of your time for some questions?
(assuming a “I’m not the sheriff” response)

“Right. Right.” The man says as he writes something down on a pad of paper. “Holding out for more money, I gitcha ya. So is JW offering a salary or is it a per head caught basis? Where are you from? How’d you get here? What made you choose the lawman style of life? Are you married? Do you have family settling here? If you are a bachelor, let me tell you there are some many of a fine lady readers of my paper that would be interested. Is this fine young man your deputy? Jimmy! How do you know the sheriff? And who might this fine lovely lady be? Are you related to the sheriff? ”

(Charles will hound you with question and never quite get that you are not the sheriff. He will follow you as far as the Lawrence but won’t go in)

James and Willow, 4:00 pm
Willow engages her escort in conversation, letting him talk as mush as he cares and leading the topics to where she can find the most benefit. James Blake is not a man of great depth unfortunately, mostly spending his time spending his parent’s money and chasing women. He complains a lot about his parents holding him back on this dustball of a world, but has no real incline toward a particular profession. (Shame because he might have made a good…not bad…somewhat decent companion) He doesn’t want to inherit the bank – a fate worse than death in his books. His goals and dreams are mostly the travel the “verse to get away from his parents, but to do it in their bankroll. He mentions that his father was a minor clerk for a major bank and his mother was a Saloon girl once. His mother convince John to set the bank up here and has been running things ever since - better to be the big fish in a small pond than a small fish in the ocean.

On JW, he shows a certain admiration and confesses a suspicion that JW is his father, not John Blake. (His facial features have too much Blake in them for this to be true). JW bought the mine for a song before the war, and then afterwards when everything was over, found silver. The Consortium has been trying to squeeze him out every since (hence the blockade).

Brigit – he clams up tight. Obviously he is smitten with her, and you are sure that Brigit sent him with the message, but he gets all mysterious like when you ask about her. He slips up a few time and mentions a “mission” that she is on. You start to suspect James thinks Brigit is some sort of secret agent spy, like from the holoflicks – with he watches a lot of them.

The Lawrence Saloon 4:30 pm
Upon entering the Saloon, the first thing you notice is the grand mirror behind the bar. It is a fancy beveled edged mirror that goes the entire length of the bar. It seems a bit much for the place until you soon realize that because of the mirror, it is impossible for anyone to sneak up behind anyone. The mirror reflects the entire saloon, no matter where you are sitting.

The room is moderately full, mostly miner folk clustered around a table near the back where JW sits along with Bailey and two other men you do not recognize. Brigit is nowhere to be seen, nor is Cora and the banker. There is a woman sitting at the bar alone, long blonde hair reaching down her back from under her wide brimmed hat. She is drinking Wild Turkey by the shot, and the bottle in front of her is three quarter empty. She wears twin pearl handled peacemakers on her waist, and a bandolier over her shoulder with bullets in the straps. You are met at the door by what appears to be the young lady that Asher had met in the ship, only this lady ain’t crying but greets you with a sincere and happy smile. “Howdy gents! Take a seat wherever you can and I would be happy to serve you. Say? Are you that new sheriff? Shiny! I’ll make sure I use the extra clean cups for you hahaha.” And she leaves you to find your way into the room.
(assuming you head directly to JW)

Wyatt approached the senator, “J.W., I’m sorry to be interruptin’ your evenin’ activities, but there’s a small matter that needs addressin’ before the shadows get too long.”

JW looks up from his cards and nods a greeting while putting down his hand of three ace and two eights. The others throw down their cards in disgust. “We need to talk.” He says.

“Our man was on his way t’ the bank with yer pretty miss to receive payment fer our…delivery. We’d already arranged with Miss Brigit for the pick up, but I’m gonna need the payment ‘fore that can go down—a matter of one thousand credits. I’m sure you understand. We appreciate all that’s been done since, and ‘afore, but a man can’t run a business by lettin’ things like that slide.”

The senator scuffles while you speak but watches you the entire time. He nods his head and says, “I see your point and I was gonna take care of this tonight. But I can see the issue burning in your head.” He looked over to where James and Willow were sitting and makes an odd shake of the head like he isn’t sure of what he is seeing. Then takes the chips in front of him and shuffles most of his stack into another pile before pushing them towards Wyatt. “You can cash them in at the bar, or if you’d like, take a seat, get a drink and join us.” He says with a smile and offers a shot glass for the whiskey bottle on the table. “You’re welcome too Kid, if you’d like.” He says to Asher. “But you’ll have to get your own stack.”

The Doc’s Place, 4:30 pm
Sam woke up from the drug-induced dream to the mechanical yet feminine voice telling him to stay still. An older man came over to see him and laughed gently, “Yeah, She is a pushy thing, but she’ll be done with you in a short time. You are healing nicely Mr. Dash. By the way, I’m Doctor McGuire and I helped Miss Willow patch you up. That some doctor you have taking care of you Mr. Dash, although I’m not sure why she bandaged your face, cause it ain’t hurt, but we all have our reasons, I’m sure. So how are you feeling? Any pain? You have about another two hours or so to go and then you should just rest here over night. Wolf is outside to keep an eye on you, which is good because I’m an early to bed, early to rise, kind of doctor.”

He didn’t remember moving. Hell, he didn’t even remember dreaming enough to have caused him to move. It didn’t matter whether he remembered or not, though; he must have moved because that gorram machine was telling him to be still again. “Buddha’s balls,” Sam grumbled without opening his eyes, “would ya get off my ruttin’ back? Ta ma duh! Nag, nag, nag!”

“Yeah,” Sam’s eyes shot open and he flinched enough at the sound of the Doctor’s voice to cause the machine to repeat itself, “She is a pushy thing but she’ll be done with you in a short time. You are healing nicely, Mr Dash.”

Sam blinked, his hand resting on the grips of his pistol, and regarded the doctor suspiciously… nervously… for a long moment. The guy was older and what some might call distinguished lookin’ - Bet ya’d make Miss Will’s heart jus’ flutter right outta her silken li’l chest, wouldn’ ya? - with something about his eyes that said, maybe in his younger days, he’d been one tough wong bah duhn where both brainpan and brawn were concerned. Something in those same eyes told Sam that, physically, the Doc wasn’t so tough anymore though the brainpan was probably good and keen, yet. “Glad ya approve,” Sam nodded finally, “Can ya get it ta shut up?”

“Sorry,” the doctor chuckled, “part of the design, I’m afraid.”

“Shiny.”

“By the way,” the older man smiled, “I’m Doctor McGuire. I helped Miss Willow patch you up.”

“Pleezdameetcha, Doc,” Sam nodded faintly, “Much obliged fer th’ mendin’.”

“That’s some doctor you’ve got taking care of you, Mr Dash,” Doc McGuire continued, “although, I’m not sure why she bandaged your face cause it ain’t hurt.”

Bandaged my wha’? Dash’s free hand – the one as wasn’t still restin’ on the Avenger – drifted towards his face and tentatively touched the gauze that he just realized was wrapped securely aroud his head. Right. All the boomin’ an’ buzzin’ at th’ bank like called a Purple Belly patrol in from orbit. Aw, Willow, I do so love ya, darlin’. “Yeah,” Sam grinned, realizing that the woman had probably did her best to disguise him from the Alliance and, perhaps, also recalling his recent dreams of Roc’s resident boo-boo kisser, “Will’s somethin’ else a’right. Prob’ly bagged my head as she don’ like ta seem my ugly mug when she gets me nekkid.”

“We all have our reasons, I’m sure,” Doc McGuire laughed. “So how are you feeling? Any pain?”

Dash shot the doc a look that said ‘are ya ruttin’ kiddin’ me?’ then shook his head; “Not much…C’n I get up?”

McGuire shook his head. “You have about another two hours or so to go,” he said, “and then you should just rest here over night. Wolf is outside to keep an eye on you, which is good because I’m an early to bed, early to rise kind of doctor.”

“Two hours? Shun Sheng Duh Gao Wahn! Supposin’ I gotta take a piss er somethin’,” Sam joked before nodding in the direction of the still unconscious teller, “Izzat what-‘is-name? From the bank?”

Dr McGuire glanced at the man and then back at Sam; “Albert. Yes.”

“He gonna be a’right?”

((Assuming a “Yes, Mr Dash, it’ll take a bit of time but I’m sure he’ll recover.”))

“Good,” Sam nodded, “good. Listen, there was a woman wit’ me at th’ bank… Miss Brigit… I notice she ain’t here. Reckon that means she’s okay t’boot? That is ta say, she din’t get all shot up er uglified er nothin’, right?”

((Assuming another affirmative answer of some sort.))

“Ku,” Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Knowing that all of the innocents in the bank had made it out alive took an immense load off of his conscience… he still felt right poorly for Albert, of course, but at least the guy was gonna live and, from what the Doc said, Miss Brigit was still as luscious as ever. “Whatcha know ‘bout that schoolmarm, anyhoo, Doc? Don’ recollect ever runnin’ inta a woman quite like her anywhere’s else, get me?”

((OOC: And stop… Took some minor liberties with the Doc’s dialogue, there… If I overstepped at all, I can change stuff. Dash is just looking for general info on Miss Brigit, of course, to satify his own fantasies and, maybe to kill some time without bein’ bord as all guay layin here on his back… If Doc McGuire offers up anything more, though… Well, I won’t be shocked, crushed, or otherwise offended… ))

The senator scuffles while you speak but watches you the entire time. He nods his head and says, “I see your point and I was gonna take care of this tonight. But I can see the issue burning in your head.” He looked over to where James and Willow were sitting and makes an odd shake of the head like he isn’t sure of what he is seeing. Then takes the chips in front of him and shuffles most of his stack into another pile before pushing them towards Wyatt. “You can cash them in at the bar, or if you’d like, take a seat, get a drink and join us.” He says with a smile and offers a shot glass for the whiskey bottle on the table. “You’re welcome too Kid, if you’d like.” He says to Asher. “But you’ll have to get your own stack.”

Wyatt steps forward and takes the stack up in hand, offering J.W. a nod before stepping back again. “Not the gamblin’ type, but thanks anyway.

“Look, there’s this other thing: those about town have taken t’ callin’ me, or Asher here, sheriff. Now, I don’t wanna go pissin’ on people’s boots, but I’d appreciate it if’n you could call ‘em off a bit? I’m gonna have enough trouble linin’ up additional work without there bein’ some negative connotation attached t’ my name, dohn-ma?”

Hoisting the chips in hand a bit to draw emphasis to them, Wyatt offers a final sheh sheh and turns towards the bar confident that the Kid would be watching his back. Once there, he cashes in the chips and peers around at the crowd through the mirror before settling on allowing those that was there from Rocinante to share a drink, and give Willow some more time with her man toy.

“Belly up, Kid,” Wyatt motioned to the bar. “Don’t know how much longer we’ll be dirtside so you best be getting’ yer fill of it now.”

“I’ll have a soda,” Wyatt orders when the barkeep approaches, resisting the urge to order a whiskey to calm what the day had done. Ignoring the looks he might’ve received, Sung began to contemplate where he might drudge up additional cargo for Rocinante, passengers might do as well. Perhaps something legal this time so they could spread their wings and fly right through that blockade…something with a nice payout attached too. In any case, he’s determined to mind his own business, not get tangled in J.W.’s web any further than they already had been (the whole Ludlow thing still had him bouncin’ about in his brainpan for some reason in the ‘Verse that they should have ran into both brothers within such a short amount of time. One was trackin’ a Sam, and Wyatt hadn’t ruled out that it wasn’t the miner either.

After a time sipping at his soda, he’d worked himself into feeling anxiety about Sam’s condition, and was intent on returning to Rocinante as quick as he could so as to facilitate the transfer of ice and land the next gig, returning Dash, Wolf, the mule, and all else to Roc as it should be. Downing the rest of his drink, Wyatt pushed away from the bar and motioned for Asher to follow, drawing up near Willow and the dandy.

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Then, almost as an after thought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

(OOC: Barring interruption, complications, trouble…they’ll return to the ship and prepare to handle the transfer of the ice. If there’s time to kill, Wyatt will spend it searching the cortex for additional work, or making his way about the docks looking for posted work there, but staying close to the ship, and bringing Asher with him should he leave Rocinante. Oh, and he’ll stow the money in his quarters in a “safe place”. They’ll return for Sam, Wolf, and the mule in the morning since the transfer will likely take place too late at night to be disturbing respectable folk. At least, that’s Wyatt’s plan. We’ll see what happens.)

Willow walked alongside James, arm held against her so that he could feel her warmth through the silk of her kimono and the light wool of his suit. Most men would be distracted by it, and not think too heavily on her questions, but it seemed unnecessary….James was apparently not the thinking type. He certainly was pretty to look at though, his voice was pleasant and he had the easy charm of one confident in his looks. He’d have easily made a fine Companion, if he was half as entertaining in a more private environment, but probably would never rise much higher than a goodtime boy…he just wasn’t clever enough to be worthy of more discerning clients.

As James complained about his parents, but was vague on what he wanted to do, Willow dismissed the idea of even mentioning the Order. The glamour and money would definitely attract James, but it took hard work and discipline to achieve any rank within the Companions, and work wasn’t something James looked kindly on. As they chatted, it became clear that James would be handy enough for a “Who’s Who” in town, but wouldn’t be able to tell Willow much more. She continued to listen to him with half an ear, and making idle, semi-flirtatious banter, while she thought on what little she had learned from him.

JW was clearly the man with the most influence, both here and in the town itself. James’ parents had money and influence (because of the money), but it was unlikely that bankers would have cargo they’d need to move, and they weren’t here, in any case. Brigit remained an enigma, though James’ manner was strange. Willow recalled Brigit fawning over Sam’s injured self, then throwing herself at Asher, and thought she understood. The woman may be engaged to JW, but had a habit of using her charms on the men around her. Willow shrugged inwardly; she was hardly the one to comment on that sort of behaviour!

Everyone else in the saloon looked to be miners, with the exception of the woman at the bar. She was just different enough to catch Willow’s interest, and she asked James if he knew who she was. She stroked James’ arm lightly as she did so, making sure he felt that he was the only one she was truly interested in, despite her questions.

(Will react to his response as necessary).

As James continued to talk about himself, Willow watched the Captain and JW out of the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t hear over the low roar of a saloon full of miners, but she saw the chips change hands and the Captain move back to the bar. She tensed as the Captain ordered, but what he downed was definitely not whiskey, and she relaxed again.

Trouble was, the exchange with JW was far too short, and Willow again rued the Captain’s retiring ways. An empty ship made no money, and the credits for this job would likely go into repairs, fuel and likely a new mule. This was no way to get ahead.

“I’m not just the doctor, I’m also the only one with any business sense, I suppose, “she sighed to herself, before noticing James giving her a curious look. She smiled quickly and shook her head, leaning in close to let her fragrance tickle his nose.
“Don’t mind me, James, my love,” she laughed lightly,” being in the Black so long makes you talk to yourself. Speaking of talking, I really should give my regards to JW. Be a dear and introduce me?”

(Assuming he does, otherwise will post something different). Willow used James’ unnecessary introduction to extend a graceful hand for JW to shake. She made a few comments about how nice the town was, and how nice it was that James was escorting her. As JW started to look impatient to return to his game, she got to the point. “I know we’ve been paid for our delivery, and I thank you for the kindness. The same blockade that stopped deliveries coming in would be an equal barrier to anything leaving, hmm? Care to take advantage of our soon to be empty cargo bay?”

(Will back post to JW’s response)

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Wyatt called from the bar, his drink done. Then, as an afterthought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

The former Companion looked at James, before looking to Wyatt, her face as tragic as a child being told to leave the puppy at the pet store. Badger had been an awfully long time ago, and Willow was lonely for the feel of arms around her. She had a mental flash of Sam lying in the doctor’s surgery, and suddenly, leaving James wasn’t so difficult anymore. She blinked in surprise but recovered quickly, turning to James with a look of sweet regret.

“Alas, my love,” she took both of his hands into her own and gazed into those astonishingly blue eyes,” my captain calls and I must follow. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” She brought her face close to his and gave him a kiss, one that was both light and sweet, but could have so easily deepened into more. Eyes sparkling, she touched those soft lips with her fingers, then squeezed his hand in goodbye. Before he could argue, she rose, swiftly, and glided to the captain, taking the offered elbow and nodding another goodbye to JW.

The cool evening air carried the stigmatism of city stench upon it as the group wound their way through the city streets. The whole of the time Wyatt’s mood darkened as people popped off with salutations the like of, “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” and, “Howdy, Sheriff. Mighty nice to have you in town.” There were more, but after a spell, Sung had to force himself to ignore them lest he snap at one of them folk that so dared to be misguided and kind. He could understand their excitement over having Law in town, but to mistake the Law for him? That just wasn’t comprehensible to the captain. There might’ve been a time when he’d have entertained such a thought, but that time was as dead as the ranch he’d left behind, put to rest with the souls of his loved ones, and hung with the massacre he’d enacted on those responsible. Where’d the law been then!? Cow-towing to the local aristocracy, and bending in the wind like a weak sapling instead of being strong like the oak they needed to be.

Thinking on the past as these comments had charged him to do, Wyatt nearly missed the well-dressed gentleman approaching them after a turn, and that just drove the dour captain further into his mood. Reading the man as a non-threat for the time, Wyatt dismissed the idea of trying to intimidate him into leaving them alone and kept his hand free from his Colt.

“Excuse me! Sheriff! Charles Caesar of the Frisco Star. I was wondering if I could have an interview, or a few moments of your time for some questions?”

“You got it wrong, Puhn yo,” Wyatt’s tone held a warning to it that the newsman flat out ignored.

“Right. Right.” And there he was jotting something down on a pad. “Holding out for more money, I gitch ya. So is JW offering a salary, or is it a per head caught basis? Where are you from? How’d you get here? What made you choose the lawman style of life? Are you married? Do you have a family settling here? If you are a bachelor, let me tell you there are some many of a fine lady readers of my paper that would be interested. Is this fine young man your deputy? Jimmy! How do you know the sheriff? And who might this fine lovely lady be? Are you related to the sheriff?”

Wyatt stopped cold in the street, his head lowered slightly, his eyes on the ground. When he spoke, his tone was the messenger of death. “Mister, you’re Shiah Hwa, an’ if’n you print that Da Shiang La Se La Ch’wohn Tian you’re gonna find yerself losing more’n a few of yer readers when I pack up and burn atmo leavin’ this dirt rock for the vultures. Bai Tuo, Uhn Jin Yee Dien”

Of course, that wasn’t it despite Wyatt telling the man to shut up. No. Even as the captain stood there really wanting to pistol whip the fellow, he started right into asking more questions and scribbling in that infernal notebook. Shaking his head slightly the captain of Rocinante pushed past the newsman and continued towards his pending rendezvous with JW, the whole while wondering if he could get away with asking Asher to do a little P.R. It was just an entertaining thought. Wyatt knew that Willow would never stand for it, and he didn’t need more trouble in this town with Sam getting stitched up and Wolf working on repairing their property (how much was that going to cost them?).

By the time Wyatt reached the bar, he was silently wishing he hadn’t promised Willow (as well as Summer and Eden) that he wouldn’t drink any more. What a good dousing of the brain in the numbing quality of liquor would do for him right then…

Dr.McGuire’s. 5:30 pm
“He gonna be a’right?”

He’s gonna be right as rain. In fact, I have already disconnected him from the monitor and he’s sleeping normally. His girl will be coming to take him home soon.”

“Good,” Sam nodded, “good. Listen, there was a woman wit’ me at th’ bank… Miss Brigit… I notice she ain’t here. Reckon that means she’s okay t’boot? That is ta say, she din’t get all shot up er uglified er nothin’, right?”

The doctor laughs softly to himself, “No, Miss Brigit is doing fine, thanks to your efforts. Still as pretty and turning heads as a pretty woman is prone to do.”

“Ku,” Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “Whatcha know ‘bout that schoolmarm, anyhoo, Doc? Don’ recollect ever runnin’ inta a woman quite like her anywhere’s else, get me?”

“Well, there is a lot of talk around here about her, but I find that the prettier the woman, the more dirty the talk if you catch my meaning. She’s an ambitious one, I can say that and not above using what she’s got to her advantage, but in this end of the verse, you work with the tools you got.”

(Assume some sort of agreement here)

“What I don’t get is her and JW. They says they’re engaged but frankly, JW has only one love and that is a card table. His mine is his second mistress and Brigit doesn’t strike me as a woman who can play a third.”

*Thump, Thump, Thump*

The doctor looks up towards the doorway, “Excuse me Mr. Dash. That will be Mary.” And he leaves the room. Sam can hear the sound of conversation through the open door and then the Doc returns with a pretty brown haired woman. She looks directly at Albert and runs to his side. The teller comes to with the commotion and there is a tearful moment as the couple hold each other. Sam can’t help but notice that the Doctor can watch them as they embrace and talk about love. He is clearly pained to see the display of love and affection.

“Excuse me Miss Mary,” The Doc says after clearing his throat, “But you best be taking Albert home and let him rest there. Now Albert, you come back tomorrow and I’ll see to those burn marks, but the shot I gave you should dull any pain until then. Now you head right to bed now and get some rest. No, use the back door, it will be easier. Yes, yes, yes, it was nothing. You all go home, ya’ hear.” He says as he escorts them to the door. After they leave, he closes the door and walks over to a far cabinet, opens the door and moves some bottles around. He pulls out a bottle of whiskey – high end stuff from the black JD on the bottle, and a couple of glasses. He pours himself a half full glass and promptly empties it. He pours another and puts the bottle on the counter, next to the other glass. “Feel free to help yourself when the knitter is done. No good for you now, but once you are done, a glass or two won’t do anything but help you sleep. I’m gonna see about some dinner and then head to bed afterwards, but I’ll bring you in something to eat and check on you before I do.”

The Roads to the Saloon 4:30 -5:00
The newspaper man wouldn’t let up on Wyatt. Charles finally had a story worth printing and he wanted to get it badly. So much so that the words coming from the new Sheriff didn’t really matter as much as the idea of having a sheriff in town.

Wyatt stopped cold in the street, his head lowered slightly, his eyes on the ground. When he spoke, his tone was the messenger of death. “Mister, you’re Shiah Hwa, an’ if’n you print that Da Shiang La Se La Ch’wohn Tian you’re gonna find yerself losing more’n a few of yer readers when I pack up and burn atmo leavin’ this dirt rock for the vultures. Bai Tuo, Uhn Jin Yee Dien”

Charles stopped in the street and paled visibly. “Um…I don’t really see the need for such language sir.” He stepped back in fear of the man who had brought Ethan Ludlow down, “I …umm…Why don’t we talk another time … when you are in a better …I mean a more personable mind.” And he back pedaled as fast as dignity would let him before deciding to out and out run.

The rest of the way, no one asked him questions or called out to him, but they were all watching, as if hoping beyond hope that they could lay their fears to rest at the feet of someone willing to wear a badge.

Lawrence Saloon
Willow and James sat together talking while Wyatt and Asher moved directly towards JW. Willow noticed the blonde lady at the bar and asked, “James darling, who is that lady at the bar?”

James looked over at the lady and back at Willow, “I don’t rightly know. She came in on the same ship as JW, but left the ship as soon as it was on the ground and came directly here. Not much into talking, Lord knows that Lisa has tried.” He says.

Wyatt accepts the chips from JW, secretly pleased that he has payment when things were beginning to look like anything would happen to prevent this job from being a simple one. Wyatt steps forward and takes the stack up in hand, offering J.W. a nod before stepping back again. “Not the gamblin’ type, but thanks anyway. Look, there’s this other thing: those about town have taken t’ callin’ me, or Asher here, sheriff. Now, I don’t wanna go pissin’ on people’s boots, but I’d appreciate it if’n you could call ‘em off a bit? I’m gonna have enough trouble linin’ up additional work without there bein’ some negative connotation attached t’ my name, dohn-ma?”

JW nods, “People here are in a bit of a bind, and you are the first they have seen of a man who stands up for his own. Can’t blame them for wanting a piece of you. Hell, I wish that I could offer you the job, but I knows you don’t want it. Listen, there is a meeting tomorrow morning of the leaders and the like of this town. Why don’t you come out, it is at the meeting hall over the bank, and I can tell everyone then and there you ain’t no sheriff. It will be the fastest way to get the news across.”

(assuming an answer here of nay or yay)

Wyatt goes over to the bar and hands in his chips. The bartender, a Chinese man of above average height and broad muscular shoulders, glances at the chips and says, “Quan! (one thousand) I have to give you platinum and credit notes Da yeh or else I call Pete to open vault.”

(I am gonna assume you have no problem with notes since you were willing to do a wire transfer)

The bartender counts out the coin and notes in mandarin for you to assure accuracy. “What can I get you?”

Wyatt orders a soda and Asher, milk. The Chinese man stares back at them for awhile, as if he’s expecting a punch line or something. “Mo Min Chi Meow this is a saloon Da yeh not a nursery store. If it can’t make you fall down and sleep, we don’t serve it! Dohn ma?”

(assume you will order something else or go without)

James and Willow come up to the table after Wyatt leaves with his chips. James introduces Willow to JW and also to the other men at the table, “Willow, this is JW our man in parliament. Bailey Sachett is the mining engineer. Over here is Chad Sloat (picture Viggo Mortensen in ROTK), the mining union representative and this here is Major Montebank (picture Michael Sloan from “The Equalizer”), the superintendent of the mine.”

The Major stands and bows to Willow as a proper gentlemen would when introduced to a lady. Chad stands up and bows too, but awkwardly, like he has no idea why he’s doing this but feels he has to follow the lead. JW offers his hand and greets Willow pleasantly but doesn’t get up. Greetings and small talk ensue. In a short time Willow determines that Major Montebank was an officer for the alliance during the war, but he doesn’t like to brag or bring it up much as there are people here who fought on the other side. Chad is a nervous sort who views Montebank with some hostility although it is not reciprocated. JW is pleasant and charming in his own direct manner but he is more interested in getting back to the cards. The senator looks Willow in the eyes when talking and his eyes never stray to her body as most men would, even the Major and Chad. Sensing some discomfort, Willow brings the conversation around.

“I know we’ve been paid for our delivery, and I thank you for the kindness.” Willow smiles charmingly, “The same blockade that stopped deliveries coming in would be an equal barrier to anything leaving, hmm? Care to take advantage of our soon to be empty cargo bay?”

“No worries on the embargo.” JW answers, “The Allliance just wants to make sure nothing on to the planet that can help us mine. You could fly a ship full of drugs, weapons and concubine slaves pass them and they wouldn’t even say boo. Beggin’ your pardon Miss. As to cargo, well, as I was saying to your captain here, we be having a meeting at the hall above the bank tomorrow morning. I think it will be of interest to you and yours and there will definitely some cargo to go, and perhaps some to come back.”

“We going to need more ummm containers.” Bailey says looking at his cards and folding, “We’ll use up most of this shipment in priming.”

“You going to have your election Chad?” The major asks a little too casually.

“As soon as I get the miners in order and in one place. You can’t stop me Major! The guild deserves a voice here. Someone to …”

“Cool off Chad, I’m just asking. Seems like this would be the best time, If these people are heading out, you could register at the nearest guildhouse.” The Major discards and take a card, “I may not think much of the Guild but I am perfectly willing to let others join whatever causes they want. If you need a gathering place, this would be the place. You could have a general meeting tomorrow here before the shifts start”

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Wyatt called from the bar, his drink done. Then, as an afterthought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

“Alas, my love,” Willow said to James, “My captain calls and I must follow. Thank you for a wonderful evening.” She brought her face close to his and gave him a kiss, one that was both light and sweet, but could have so easily deepened into more. Eyes sparkling, she touched those soft lips with her fingers, and then squeezed his hand in goodbye. Before he could argue, she rose, swiftly, and glided to the captain, taking the offered elbow and nodding another goodbye to JW.

JW arose and walked towards the doorway with you, “Let me see you out. There’s something I want to mention to you just between us folk.”

You pass through the saloon doors and out into the street. JW turns to you and talks in a low voice, “Listen. Them there Alliance squad were very interested in that Ethan Ludlow. So much so they took his body with them. Now the squad captain said that Ethan had a father and two other brothers. One of the brothers was around these parts, a real mean one too, but he left awhile ago, I’m told. But Ethan’s father is a commandant in the alliance military; I think she said his name was Horatio. Yeah, Horatio and Ethan and Edward and Ernest. Anyway, thought I would warn you but they got no tie to you. When they asked about the shooting, everyone played dumb and said we arrived and they’s was dead. The folk around here they didn’t pay much attention to, and those they did would say it was the sheriff, which you ain’t, right. But I’d won’t go bragging around none, not that you strike me as the bragging type.”

(interject conversation here)

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours. Best get back in there before the cards get cold or Chad and the Major start to come to blows. I ain’t a senator as much as I’m a babysitter.”

OOC: I’m going stop here and post because I have had this going now for five days and no end in sight. So post if you wish. Blammm can slip in a back post. Vanadia has expressed an interest in changing her action of returning to the ship. There was mention of some sneaking and snooping but I haven’t seen evidence of that beyond Willow pumping James.

If no one posts by the weekend, I'll continue with my previous plan.

As Fenris worked quietly on the mules damaged brake system he finally began to relax from the bank fight. Though his shoulder yet hurt here he was doing something helpful to the Cap’n and his fellow crewmates and what he knew how to do. He knew damn well he was no gunfighter like Asher, though the thrill of it had excited him, and was lucky not to be dead. He would have to ask Asher for some training in gun handling if he wanted to be able to better back up the rest of his new and old friends.

He was ready to leave this dead planetiod for good, though he would miss Brigit, this was not his home and never would be. He had finally come to realize that his place was out among the stars free of commitment other then to the ship and his crewmates and with that finally finding a home. A life of spacing, thought Fenris with a smile and the eagerness as if a kid, as he returned his full attention to the brakes....

“People here are in a bit of a bind, and you are the first they have seen of a man who stands up for his own,” JW said ruefully. “Can’t blame them for wanting a piece of you. Hell, I wish that I could offer you the job, but I knows you don’t want it. Listen, there is a meeting tomorrow morning of the leaders and the like of this town. Why don’t you come out, it is at the meeting hall over the bank, and I can tell everyone then and there you ain’t no sheriff. It will be the fastest way to get the news across.”

“Me an’ mine ain’t much for politics, JW,” Wyatt absent-mindedly thumbed through the chips he’d just accepted as payment. If felt good to have it in hand, and part of him was already determining how it was to be spent. There were so many expenditures for a ship and crew… “Look, I ain’t saying I’ll be there, but there’s a chance. Either way, I’d appreciate it if’n you set the record straight.”

Hefting the chips Wyatt gave the senator a nod and turned to the bar, sauntering over to the Chinese fellow and setting the chips down in neat stacks.

“Quan! (one thousand) I have to give you platinum and credit notes Da yeh or else I call Pete to open vault.”

“We’ll take the platinum and credit notes, Puhn yo. I ain’t got the time to wait on you fetchin’ someone else.” Turning about, Wyatt watched the crowd with a level of disinterest while waiting on the payout. There’d be fuel, food, repairs…Ta Ma Duh! Still haven’t landed no other cargo!
Taking the offered currency, Wyatt moved on to the bar, placing his order while The Kid placed his.

“Mo Min Chi Meow this is a saloon Da yeh not a nursery store. If it can’t make you fall down and sleep, we don’t serve it! Dohn ma?” The barkeep was also Chinese, and he looked surprised to have received orders such as the two men were want to give.

“Mei Wen Ti,” Wyatt said, waving the man off while desperately fighting the internal struggle to ask for a scotch.

Watching Willow and James for a bit, Wyatt’s mind continued to inventory Rocinante’s needs. He’d have to get Wolf to perform a quick check on the engines—Kora had kept her runnin’ pretty well, but since she’d stayed on that rock, Wyatt’d been uneasy as an elephant in a field of mice just waitin’ for something to break down. Wolf’d have to let him know if there was anything he was accustomed to that was missin’ from the available tools as well. That led Sung to thinking about their recent scrape and the need for medical supplies. He’d have to check with Willow to see if she had everything she’d need should something like this happen again and there weren’t no city doc around with fancy pretties to tidy up with. Of course, there was the ammo they’d expended, Dash’s ballistic mesh, his hat…so much to buy, so little funds. Especially if’n he was gonna make sure everyone got a little spendin’ money.

With a sigh, Wyatt blinked his way out of his thoughts and realized that Willow and James had made their way over to JW’s table where she was engaging in conversation with the man.

“C’mon, Asher,” Wyatt mumbled. “Time t’ git.”

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Wyatt called from the bar as he began to stroll towards the door. Then, as an afterthought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

He watched as she coyly said her farewells to the gentlemen at the table, paying special attention to James. She was good at what she did, and Wyatt was lucky as hell to have her as part of the Rocinante family. He was only slightly surprised by JW rising up to escort Willow towards him, allowing the beautiful woman to switch from his arm to Wyatt’s without a break in rhythm.

Once they’d passed out through the doors into the cooling evening air, JW turned to face them and spoke in a low voice, “Listen. Them there Alliance squad were very interested in that Ethan Ludlow. So much so they took his body with them. Now the squad captain said that Ethan had a father and two other brothers. One of the brothers was around these parts, a real mean one too, but he left awhile ago, I’m told. But Ethan’s father is a commandant in the alliance military; I think she said his name was Horatio. Yeah, Horatio and Ethan and Edward and Ernest. Anyway, thought I would warn you but they got no tie to you. When they asked about the shooting, everyone played dumb and said we arrived and they’s was dead. The folk around here they didn’t pay much attention to, and those they did would say it was the sheriff, which you ain’t, right. But I’d won’t go bragging around none, not that you strike me as the bragging type.”

Inside, Wyatt’s guts had frozen. Outside, his face remained impassive and he nodded his thanks to JW for the additional information. “I appreciate the warnin’, JW. We’ll keep our noses clean, I assure you.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a few hours,” JW said amicably. “Best get back in there before the cards get cold or Chad and the Major start to come to blows. I ain’t a senator as much as I’m a babysitter.”

Wyatt instinctively reached up to tip his hat and then adjusted as he remembered it was ruined and instead offered the senator a slight wave of farewell. Turning away from the bar, the captain of Rocinante waited until he was sure that they were some distance from the location, and he’d done his best to determine they weren’t being followed (OOC: Perception check please).

“That was disturbin’,” he said in a low voice only Willow and Asher might hear. “We been killin’ commandant’s boys. Ta Ma Duh!” He took a deep breath before continuing. “All right, so we’ve got some work ahead of us tonight. Willow, I think we need to look in on these Ludlows a bit further. It just don’t make no sense to me that we run into two of them on the same deal, an’ both of them are up t’ no good. It also bothers the nine hells outta me that we had t’ kill both of them. I want to know where the third brother is, and any data you can find on their pa’d be helpful as well. In particular, I think it might be worthwhile t’ check in on where that Ethan Ludlow was stayin’ here in town, so if you can find that out, I’d be right appreciative.

“Asher, git back to Rocinante an’ make sure she’s secure. Get Ma up to speed on what’s been happening as fast as ya can, an’ then look into the cargo t’ make sure it’s ready to unload. Take Willow with ya so as she can use the cortex link from the ship, an’ check into her wave. I still got the commlink on me, so if’n ya need me before I return, ya can get me on that.

“I’m gonna go check up on Sam and Wolf just to settle my gut a bit before returning to Rocinante. Oh, an’ if you can, Willow, scan the cortex a bit an’ see if there’s anything out there yet about the Ludlow’s deaths. I’m figurin’ as soon as their commandant father finds out two of his boys are dead, he’ll be burnin’ atmo in no time, and bringing a few contingents of Nien Mohn with him lookin’ fer the sheriff that did one of his boys in, and seein’ how this mudball ain’t got no sheriff it’ll raise some questions. I’d prefer we were deep in the Black before that happens carryin’ another load of cargo and no longer worryin’ about some big gun being shoved down our throats.”

Wyatt began to split off from the other two, transferring Willow’s hand to Asher’s arm as he did so, then he remembered something he’d wanted to address with them. “Oh, there’s this meetin’ over the bank tomorrow morning that I might have to attend. Willow, you got that meeting with the shepard tomorrow mornin’ as well. So, when I get back to the ship we’ll conclude our business with JW and then do a quick inventory of all we need. We’ll attend to our various meetings tomorrow morning and then try t’ get our shopping done right afterward. Luck pendin’ we’ll be able to land us some cargo before the afternoon is up, and be able to burn atmo by evening avoidin’ further docking fees.”

(OOC: assuming Willow tells him of her interaction with JW and his mention of the meeting and additional work…)

Wyatt nodded appreciatively. “Didn’t even occur t’ me to ask the fellow for more work, Wil. I was too caught up in the trouble this current job’d arranged for us. Good on ya. I like it all the better anyhow. You being present at the council meeting, an’ me being able t’ attend the shepherd’s meeting with you.

“Asher, if’n you got the time, come up with what we need to stock up on munitions and the like after you fill Ma in and get the cargo ready.”

That said, Wyatt gave a nod of farewell to his crew and turned about to make his way back to the doctor’s. He felt more nervous now about the Ludlow interactions than he had before, and couldn’t ignore the feeling he had that he needed to check in on Sam and Wolf. Peering about the streets as casually as he could while still taking in all the detail he could (OOC: another Perception check please) Sung kept his hand near his colt just in case.

Upon reaching the Doc’s house, he makes a slow parameter check, eyeballing the shadows, the perches on neighboring buildings for gunmen, and every nook and cranny he could find before making his way into the back shed. Pausing at the door he listened for sounds of tinkerin’ and was finally rewarded with a grunt and the clank of metal upon metal. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and approached Wolf where he lay upon the dirt floor halfway underneath the mule, obviously working on the brake line.

“How’s it comin’?” Wyatt crouched so the big man could see his face. Receiving the answer, the captain gave a nod. “All right, well, finish up as quick as ya can. You’ll need your sleep, and I don’t think Willow’d forgive me should you reopen your wound just to get the mule running proper again. You need any parts let me know and we’ll buy ‘em first thing tomorrow morning.” Pausing, Wyatt glanced about the orange-illuminated interior of the shed. “Anything eventful happen while we was out?”

(OOC: assuming something in the realm of uh-uh.)

“Good. Well, like I said, don’t go killin’ yerself.” Wyatt stood and made his way out of the shed to the main house, pausing once again at the shed door to peer about the blue evening (OOC: another Perception check please). Once he was sure that things were still quiet, he proceeded on up the porch to the door, checking whether it was locked (OOC: if it is, he’ll knock and wait for the doc to answer, if not, he’ll go on in, and then lock the door).

His first stop once inside was Sam’s room. There he found the pilot still on his back beneath the mender. Walking up to his side, Wyatt peered down at the injured man and smiled a bit.

“I wonder if this thing can mend a sour personality?”

(OOC: Response.)

Wyatt chuckled. “Look, puhn yo, thing’s’ve gotten a bit more complicated while you napped. Oh, wipe that look from yer face. We got paid, so it ain’t all that bad exceptin’, of course, the holes put in your sorry sack.

“That Ludlow fellow we kilt up at the mine? Well, this other fella that was robbin’ the bank was his brother apparently, and there’s one more of them out there too. I think JW said they was Horatio, Ethan, Edward, and Ernest. I think Horatio is their father…a commandant in the Alliance…”

(OOC: allowing for commentary.)

“Yeah, I know. But it get’s more complicated than that, Sam. We killed two of them so I’m bettin’ that once word gets out the other two’ll come lookin’ to settle the score. So, we gotta burn atmo as fast as we can an’ put distance between us and this rock. The people here have taken to calling me sheriff—Bi Jweh. I asked JW to take care of that little mistake an’ he’s promised to do so at tomorrow’s meeting. The thing is, the Alliance that came down to investigate your handiwork at the bank were apparently told that the sheriff kilt those men dead. Someone goes looking for that sheriff to answer any questions they might have, and there ain’t none to find. It’s gonna look mighty suspicious. Besides, even were I the Law, I don’t think that’d stop a Ludlow none. They don’t strike me as playin’ by the rules types.”

(OOC: commentary.)

Wyatt nodded and gripped Sam’s hand in a firm clasp as he prepared to leave. “I thought you should know. I gotta return to Rocinante to see about the cargo transfer, so that leaves you an’ Wolf here alone. Make sure you keep that sixgun close, an’ don’t take nothin’ at face value, puhn yo. We’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. The Doc says this contraption should be finished with you by then.”

(OOC: response.)

With one final nod of goodbye, Wyatt made his way out the door (confirming that it was locked again) and started off for the ship (OOC: Perception check please). Back at Rocinante he sets to work helping Asher with the cargo should the need be there, otherwise he’s going to start inventory.

BACK AT THE DOCTOR’S
Asher watched the newcomer with more than a bit of suspicion. It was not that he didn’t believe that Miss Willow could “handle” herself… he had seen her turn away her fair share of “suitors”. It had more to do with Asher’s unfamiliarity with uppity-ups and well-t’-dos. Mr. Blake, if that’s even his really name, was just a bit too smarmy for the Kid’s likin’.

The Captain spoke. “All right, Mr. Blake. I appreciate your message-bearing skills an’ all. Now, might ya be willin’ to impress me something more by tellin’ me where ol’ J.W. is?”

“JW? I don’t rightly know. I imagine he’s around here somewhere. No place else to go.”

Doc McGuire shook his head, “Don’t think to hard on it Jimmy. You might hurt yourself.”

Asher smirked from behind the milk bottle. It was nice to see that the good Doctor saw through Mr. Blake as well.

Doc McGuire continued speaking to the Captain. “Like I was saying, try the Lawrence first.”

The Captain made motion to leave, and Asher put the bottle down, wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve, and followed after Sung. He gave the good Doctor a nod as he left, “Thanks for the drink, Doc!”


ON THE WAY TO THE LAWRENCE SALON
Wyatt and Asher take the lead as James and Willow follow behind, arm in arm. James seems to be doing a lot of talking, prompted by the occasional question or comment from Willow.

The Kid walked beside the Captain with confidence and anticipation. So far, the day had gone as smooth as could be expected – all things considerin’ – and Asher was looking forward to getting’ paid. A bit of fresh food in the kitchen would be a nice treat.

Comin’ into town, the Kid was caught a bit off guard by the appreciation of the townsfolk, but he took it better than the Captain, nodding to the people and smiling back. It was not that the Kid was lookin’ for the ego boost, nor that he wanted to mislead folks into a false hope that a “savior” had arrived from above.

But he had compassion on them. You live so long in the midst of chaos and oppression you start to give up on hope for safety and security… and than some off-worlders step into the scene and stand up to injustice and take care of their own… almost makes you want to hope again. In some ways, the townspeople reminded him of home, of the lawlessness left behind after the War.

So, the Kid nodded to folks, and smiled brightly… if only to give them hope for the moment. And when a woman came up with a freshly baked apple pie, Asher replied sincerely, “MmmMmm! Apple pie! Thank you, ma’am.” And gladly took the pie in hand.

Rounding a corner, the Kid noted a man coming towards them. While he did not seem threatening, Asher did feel suspicious. With the pie in his left hand, the Kid let his right hand hover near his holster. As the man drew near, he spoke to the Captain. “Excuse me! Sheriff! Charles Caesar of the Frisco Star. I was wondering if I could have an interview, or a few moments of your time for some questions?

“You got it wrong, Puhn yo,” The Kid noted the dangerous edge in the Captain’s tone, and he looked Sung’s way out of concern. The Captain’s face was stone-cold, though there seemed to be a fire in his eyes that spoke of something under the surface. Hmmm…
“Right. Right.” And there he was jotting something down on a pad. “Holding out for more money, I gitch ya. So is JW offering a salary, or is it a per head caught basis? Where are you from? How’d you get here? What made you choose the lawman style of life? Are you married? Do you have a family settling here? If you are a bachelor, let me tell you there are some many of a fine lady readers of my paper that would be interested. Is this fine young man your deputy? Jimmy! How do you know the sheriff? And who might this fine lovely lady be? Are you related to the sheriff?”

The Captain stopped. Asher sensed danger and scanned the area to find it, only to locate it in Sung. When he spoke, his tone was the messenger of death. “Mister, you’re Shiah Hwa, an’ if’n you print that Da Shiang La Se La Ch’wohn Tian you’re gonna find yerself losing more’n a few of yer readers when I pack up and burn atmo leavin’ this dirt rock for the vultures. Bai Tuo, Uhn Jin Yee Dien”

Whoa… The Kid was nearly as stunned as the reporter.

“Um…” said the now paled news reporter. “I don’t really see the need for such language sir.” He stepped back. “I …umm…Why don’t we talk another time … when you are in a better …I mean a more personable mind.” And he back pedaled as fast as dignity would let him before deciding to out and out run.

The Kid bit his tongue. It was not his place to question the Captain. And he quickly dismissed Sung’s remarks as coming from a tired captain, weary from the worries of the day. When they got to the Lawrence Saloon, Asher walked in first, scanning the room for trouble while holding the door open for the others.


AT THE SALON Spotting JW, the Kid was about to point him out to the Captain when he is confronted with what he could only describe as his first, actual deja-vu experience – the woman at the door was an exact image of the girl he had met earlier in the day on the ramp of the Roc… only she wasn’t all cryin’-like.

“Howdy gents!” she greeted them sincerely. “Take a seat wherever you can and I would be happy to serve you.” She looked as though she was about to turn away, but than had more to say. “Say? Are you that new sheriff?” The Kid winced, looking over at the Captain to ensure he wasn’t drawing his gun.

“Shiny!” the girl continued. “I’ll make sure I use the extra clean cups for you hahaha.”

“Thanks,” replies Asher as he follows Sung towards the back table . On the way, he can’t help but notice the lone woman at the bar, the twin peacekeepers drawing his attention. MmmMMM! Those are mighty fine! he thought as he smiled in her direction. It was hard for the young lad to keep his eyes off her and her guns.

As they approached JW, Asher’s attention came back to the task at hand – public relations. He let the Captain do all the talking, while he kept watch over the room. Soon the deal was done and Sung was collecting their pay. JW invited him to join up and play, but the Kid politely decline.

The Captain made his way back to the bar, and Asher covered his back all the way, ensuring none were looking to double-cross them. The bartender looked at the chips and said, “Quan! (one thousand) I have to give you platinum and credit notes Da yeh or else I call Pete to open vault.”

The Captain assured the bartender that coins and notes would be fine enough, and the man counted out the coin and notes. What he was finished counting, he almost shifted fluidly into business, looking to take a bit of Sung’s load off him. “What can I get you?”

Wyatt ordered a soda, and Asher absently asked for milk while letting his eyes settle on the woman with the nice guns. The Chinese man replied, “Mo Min Chi Meow this is a saloon Da yeh not a nursery store. If it can’t make you fall down and sleep, we don’t serve it! Dohn ma?”

Asher’s eyes locked in on the woman’s drink, “Wild Turkey for me.”

When the bartender returned with his drink, Asher made his way over to the blonde at the bar. He felt himself begin to feel a bit clammy and tried to think of what he was going to say. When he finally pulled up beside her, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“I have never… er… had a dream come true before, until… ah... I… um…” Smooth, kid. Real smooth, he could almost hear Sam’s voice. Just tell her the truth. “I like your guns.” He blurted out, and then, “You want some pie?”


OOC:Okay… so I’m ending it here. Like I said before… still crazy busy, so I might not have time to respond. This is mostly meant to be filler. I intend Asher to just enjoy some conversation about guns over pie and Wild Turkey, excusing himself when Wyatt says it’s time to go. (though maybe exchange some info, and arranging when they might meet up later, so he can… er, check out more of her guns… and, um, eat more pie? )

(OOC: There was a lot of interaction and back posting, so I won’t repeat it all here, but add enough to move Willow forward)

Willow exchanged pleasantries with the men playing cards with JW, remembering Bayley and charming the two new men with smiles and warm conversation. When JW offered to walk her and her party out, she acquiesced gracefully and made her goodbyes to James. Outside, JW spoke to them in a low voice about the Ludlows, and Willow could see the captain’s unease under his poker face. He managed a casual farewell, though, thanking JW for the heads up before turning Willow and Asher back towards Rocinante .

“That was disturbin’,” he said in a low voice, and Willow had to agree. Rarely in her sheltered life had the jade eyed beauty felt so lost and threatened, and while she seemed outwardly calm, she held Wyatt’s (and later, Asher’s ) arm more tightly than her wont. She listened to the captain while pushing the panic down deep, and had to agree with most of his plans. Most of them.

“I can look into the Ludlows more; there are some databases I can access that aren’t normally open to most. When we thought the one was a lone low-life, I didn’t bother, but with a high ranking father….let me see what I can find. As for our morning plans, I think I can manage the council meeting after meeting with the shepherd, but I wouldn’t have you planning to be with me, Captain-San. The invitation was for me, and the Tong may let you join me, or not. Best if we don’t protest overmuch their decision, hmm?”

Willow cocked her head to look sidelong at the captain as she spoke, and watched his jaw tighten as he chewed over her words. (OOC: Leaving room for a back post)

Back at the ship, Willow gave Trish a quick hug, but let Asher bring her up to speed on the happenings, knowing Trish would come find her for details as soon as she learned Sam had been hurt. Willow used the scant moments to stroke her computer terminal to life, finding the wave marked for her and opening it to read the contents. After that, she intended to look in the Companions Client Registry for any information on the Ludlows.

“Well, there is a lot of talk around here about her,” Doc McGuire confessed in response to Dash’s prodding about Brigit, “but I find that the prettier the woman, the more dirty the talk if you catch my meaning. She’s an ambitious one, I can say that and not above using what she’s got to her advantage, but in this end of the verse, you work with the tools you got.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “that ain’t no go she humped up as things get in the world, I reckon

“What I don’t get is her and JW. They says they’re engaged but frankly, JW has only one love and that is a card table. His mine is his second mistress and Brigit doesn’t strike me as a woman who can play a third.”

The knock at the door that followed inspired another droning warning from the knitter as Sam jerked and found the grips of his pistol again. “Ta ma duh,” he breathed, rolling his eyes at himself as the Doc answered the door, “I gotta stop doin’ that.” The pilot sighed and tried to relax, even forcing his eyes closed as best he could as Doc McGuire tended to Albert and his daughter before shuffling off to home. “Ain’t never gonna have to worry about other folk killin’ me if I does it t’ m’self, am I?”

A few minutes later, Dash heard the Doc come back and close the door. He couldn’t help but open at least one eye when he heard the unmistakable sound of a drink being poured. “Feel free to help yourself when the knitter is done,” McGuire smiled faintly as if reading Sam’s mind, “No good for you now, but once you are done, a glass or two won’t do anything but help you sleep. I’m gonna see about some dinner and then head to bed afterwards, but I’ll bring you in something to eat and check on you before I do.”

“‘Preciate it, Doc,” Sam winked, “Yer a right sociable sort… even if this machine,” he nudged the knitter, purposefully evoking the now memorized warning, “is a pain in my gorram pi guh.”

A little later
Sam hadn’t had a chance to get off of the knitter and help himself to a slug or two from the Doc’s bottle before Wyatt returned and paid him a visit.

“I wonder if this thing can mend a sour personality,” the Cap grinned, looking down at him as he sidled up next to the bed.

“Hell, Cap, it’d prob’ly make ya whimsical in th’ brainpan for it fixed ya,” Dash grinned back, “but if ya think it’ll help, I’ll slide over an’ ya c’n give ‘er a shot.”

Wyatt chuckled. “Look, puhn yo, thing’s’ve gotten a bit more complicated while you napped. Oh, wipe that look from yer face. We got paid, so it ain’t all that bad exceptin’, of course, the holes put in your sorry sack.

“That Ludlow fellow we kilt up at the mine? Well, this other fella that was robbin’ the bank was his brother apparently, and there’s one more of them out there too. I think JW said they was Horatio, Ethan, Edward, and Ernest. I think Horatio is their father…a commandant in the Alliance…”

“Ai ya! Tai Kong Suo You Di Xing Qui Dou Sai Jin Wo De Pi Gu! Zhen dow mei!” Sam almost jumped off the table but was pinned and chastised by the machine, yet again, for his effort. “We gotta get outta here, Wyatt,” he said, eyes wide as he banged an agitated fist against the bone knitter, “Get this thing offa me an’ let’s go… how much more c’n it have ta do, anyway? Doc says ten fifteen more minutes and…”

“Yeah, I know,” Wyatt said, play-acting as the pilot’s voice of reason, “But it get’s more complicated than that, Sam. We killed two of them so I’m bettin’ that once word gets out the other two’ll come lookin’ to settle the score. So, we gotta burn atmo as fast as we can an’ put distance between us and this rock. The people here have taken to calling me sheriff…”

Dash blinked, somewhat settled by Wyatt’s confidence and downright tickled at what he’d just said. “Sheriff,” he snorted, looking as if he was on the verge of a laughing fit that’d likely re-break his ribs, “I’ll be dipped. Sheriff Sung!”

“Bi Jweh,” the Cap smirked, a little uncomfortably, “I asked JW to take care of that little mistake an’ he’s promised to do so at tomorrow’s meeting. The thing is, the Alliance that came down to investigate your handiwork at the bank were apparently told that the sheriff kilt those men dead. Someone goes looking for that sheriff to answer any questions they might have, and there ain’t none to find. It’s gonna look mighty suspicious. Besides, even were I the Law, I don’t think that’d stop a Ludlow none. They don’t strike me as playin’ by the rules types.”

“They ain’t from what I seen,” Dash nodded, “Both of ‘em acted like what they was doin’ was the rightest thing in th’ Verse an’ they was th’ ones as was ordained ta do it. Give no gorram nevermind ta innocents er nuthin’… Like they was on a mission, get me?

What if that’s what it is, Wyatt,” Sam almost whispered, “What if the Sam as that first Ludlow were huntin’ wasn’t Sam Hawkes, ya know? An’ what if me an’ that other Feng Pi bein’ at th’ same gorram bank at th’ same gorram time weren’t no coincidental happenin’, neither?” The pilot looked like he was on the verge of panic. “Ta ma duh, Cap. I done humped all o’ ya good’n proper, din’t I? I gotta… I gotta get an’… you gotta get th’ crew th’ hell away from me, Wyatt…”

The Captain’s dead-even glare shut Sam down in the middle of fumbling his way through resigning his spot as Rocinante’s pilot and making plans to burn atom in any direction other than that which his friends… his family were going. A slow shake of his head, too, told Sam that even if he had made it sensibly through such a thing, Wyatt wasn’t about to have any of it, anyway. “Yeah,” Sam sighed, swallowing a lump in his throat and settling back at Wyatt’s unvoiced rebuke, “You an’ me, Wyungsung. I got ya… sorry ‘bout that…”

Wyatt nodded and gripped Sam’s hand in a firm clasp as he prepared to leave. “I thought you should know. I gotta return to Rocinante to see about the cargo transfer, so that leaves you an’ Wolf here alone. Make sure you keep that sixgun close, an’ don’t take nothin’ at face value, puhn yo. We’ll come pick you up tomorrow morning. The Doc says this contraption should be finished with you by then.”

“Aye-firmative, Cap,” Dash nodded, taking a bit of comfort in that handshake, “I’ll be here an’ ready puhn yoh. Tell Miss Will I said thanks fer the face thing, too, would ya? Girl don’t know what she done but I’m glad she done it, get me?”

With one final nod of goodbye, Wyatt made his way out the door, confirming that it was locked again and started off for the ship. For his part, Sam spent the remainder of his time (and not one split-second longer) on the knitter, then, after shoving his way free of the machine, helped himself to a good sampling of Doc McGuire’s whiskey straight from the bottle. “Gorram Alliance,” he grumbled, checking his Avenger before snaking another swig from the bottle, “Gorram Ludlows!”

((OOC: Stopping there for now… If the Doc doesn’t accost him on the way and/or prohibit him from doing so, Sam will go find Wolf and see if there’s anything he can do to help get the Mule put back together… he’s been on his back long enough… doubtful he’ll be calm enough to get any rest anyway… Edits and such as needed, of course.))

The Quick and the Drunk, At the Saloon
Asher worked his way towards the blonde woman at the bar. She was a rough and tumble type, but definitely a good-looking lady. As he moved closer, she moved her hands to her guns quickly.

“I have never… er… had a dream come true before, until… ah... I… um…” He stammers out. She turns to look at him, first with cold grey eyes that look to kill him as soon as stare at him. But the eyes soften slightly, perhaps realizing that Asher means no harm. At one point in her life, she was a mighty fine lady to behold, but now she looks tired and scared.

“I like your guns.” He blurted out.

Her brows knit quizzically and she looks down her blouse and back to Asher, her eyes going cold again.

“You want some pie?” Asher says, holding out the apple pie before him as a peace offering and smiling as best he could.

She looks at the pie and then back to her drink. Her shoulders begin to convulse and then her body shakes ever so much. Then the deep throaty laughter escapes from her lips. “You know Kid that the most unip…unit…weird line I’ve ever had thrown my way. I’d love a piece o’ pie. Can’t ‘member when I last ate somethin’ that wasn’t out of a tube.” She motions to the chair beside her and picks up her glass in a toast to Asher, “Here’s lookin’ at you kid. Got a name?” She asks and tosses down the contents of her glass smoothly, then looks to Asher to do the same. (Note: I am going to work on the assumption that Asher will try to keep up with her. His complications are overconfidence as well as lightweight)

(assume Asher gives his name)

After Asher downs his drink, she picks up her bottle and fills both their glasses three quarters full. She holds her glass up and downs the contents once more, waiting on Asher before filling the glasses again. “If you be lookin’ for a good time Ash, you best try Miss. Happy Pie over there. I’m damaged goods, and it ain’t good luck to be with me.” She drawls as she pulls out a butterfly style knife from her side sheath, flips it open one-handed wit ha flourish and cuts into the pie, slicing two large pieces. She takes hers and eats it down in a rapid succession of four bites. “Mmmm. Help yourself Ash. Drink or pie, and not my guns.’ She laughs again.

(assuming some probing about luck and good times)

She downs her drink again and but doesn’t look to Asher this time. “I killed a man, not long ago. Man who killed my father. These were his.” She says patting the guns on her side. Unfortnut…Unforhum…Bad luck has it that he had a number of friends and they be pissed. Hunting me now. So I keep movin’. You on a ship? Heading out soon? I got some cash, if youse and youse Captain be taking passengers?”

(assume some sort of “possibly” answer)

“Let me know, I’ll be her’, and my guns.” She says sadly this time. She fills her glass and Asher’s again quite full, draining the bottle, “Thanks for the pie Ash. No one done a speck of kindness to me in awhile. You bette’ ‘un along, you’ Captain wants ya.”

“C’mon, Asher,” Wyatt mumbled. “Time t’ git.”

“Willow, it’s time t’ return t’ the ship,” Wyatt called from the bar as he began to stroll towards the door. Then, as an afterthought. “There’s a wave came through for ya earlier as well. Thought you’d like t’ know.”

Heading for Rocinante, 6:30 pm
OOC- I’m not going to reprint what has been written. Taking it from Wyatt parting company from Asher and Willow

Willow and Asher walked towards the ship along the main road. It wasn’t long before Willow noticed that her companion was having a bit of trouble walking a straight line. In fact, as Asher got closer to the ship, he weaved back and forth more and his mood seemed to grow more jovial. Willow’s arm held in respectful attendance become more of a support for the obviously drunk man.

(I’ll let you two work on the conversation)

As Willow and Asher come over the crest, they see Rocinante waiting where it was before. The other Firefly transport is long gone and in its place is another transport, a dragonfly class, stands in its place. The emblem on its hull reads “Defiant” and has a back-drop of a man’s fist with one finger raised upwards. On the other side of Rocinante, closest to the town is a Midge class with no emblem or name. A three-max person runabout that is often favoured by bounty hunters with cargo space converted to holding cells. In between your ship and the Midge stands a man in red and gold body armour, the NEWTECH logo clear embossed on the chest-plate. His helmet is down revealing a man with long wild brown hair circling a central bald spot and a full moustache and beard. He doesn’t have a weapon strapped on, either side or back. He is smoking a cigar and staring towards town. When he sees you, he starts to walk towards you with a purposeful stride.

“Excuse me? Wonder if you might help me?” He asks pleasantly enough as he approaches. “There might be a cash reward for you if you can.”

(Assuming some sort of response. He ain’t taking no for an answer)

He hands you a piece of printed paper. On the page is an alliance notice of a reward offering for two fugitives – a brother and sister named Simon and River Tam. According to the bulletin, they are wanted for question in the killing of a Marshall and for treason against the Alliance. The reward portion of the bulletin has been conveniently torn off. “Have you seen these two? They were last seen in a Firefly transport? Love to chat with the crew of that ship there, but it is closed up tight.”

(Your reaction – obvious that you know nothing about them. The BH is more interested in your reaction than your words)

“Much obliged.” He says taking back his notice. ‘Guess I will go look around town then. Good Evening Miss, Sir.”

Wyatt at the Doctors, 6:30 -8:00 pm
(Again, not going to reprint what has been written)

Wyatt reaches the Doctor’s house after circling around a few time to make sure he’s not followed. When he is satisfied that he isn’t, he makes his way to the house, still checking the parameter and the area to make sure no one has the drop on him. Once he feels all is clear, he enters the shed where Wolf is working on the mule.

“How’s it comin’?” Wyatt crouched so the big man could see his face.

(Wolf can answer here are the details - The mule brake line is dead. Wolf managed to get the air horn to work with the brake but it won't last long. Air filled vs liquid hydraulics. As well, the brass instruments have damaged the thruster's flow value on both the sides and there is scrap metal in the compressor manifold which will have to be replaced. They are working now, but they will break soon and then you will lose speed control.

The good news is that Fenris knows he can get all these parts from machines that Bailey ain't using anymore, so he won't charge you much. About 20-35 credits tops, may even get some free.)

All right, well, finish up as quick as ya can.” Pausing, Wyatt glanced about the orange-illuminated interior of the shed. “Anything eventful happen while we was out?”

(assuming an answer of no, not much happening)

Wyatt goes to the back door of the house and finds it is not locked. He goes in and has a look around. Sam is awake but strapped to the knitter machine. The teller is gone from the room. There is a bottle of really good whiskey on the side table beside a covered tray.

(see post by Robert)

Wyatt leaves the doctor’s place and locks the door as he leaves. Old habits make him check the area again and watch his back all the way back to the ship, but he doesn’t see anyone following him. As he reaches the ship, he sees the Dragonfly and notes the emblem. He also sees the Midge and feels a whole new sense of danger. The last thing he wanted to see was a Bounty Hunter parked next to his boat.

Inside the Rocinante 6:45 – 8:00 pm
Willow let Asher fill Trish in on the journey so far, since he was in a talkative mood despite the giggling and the falling out of his chair frequently. She had made sure that Trish heard the important things from her, and then left Ma to take care of her drunken “son”

She activated the cortex console, making sure to activate the black box inhibitor to make sure no one would listen in. First Willow checked the message.

(The message is from your aunt, so you will write it better than I. It basically says that there was an incident in the last port of call you made in Beaumonde. Apparently, some Senator’s kid lost a kitten. He is very fond of his daughter and is offering a reward of 1000 credits for its return. The whole thing sounds fishy to your aunt. The cat better be pooping gold turds shaped like Buddha himself if he’s offering that much. There is more to the story but no one is talking)

Next, Willow logs in through the Companion portal and starts her research into the Ludlows. The father Horatio is an immediate hit – with a black mark on his name for beating a Companion for refusing to “service” his command crew. History of violence, and abuse of power has kept the Commandant from being a General, but results on the battlefield prevent him from being pushed further down the ranks. His current whereabouts is considered classified.

The second eldest brother, Edward is a commander in the Core Worlds Defence Corp. He is listed as a client in good standing, with several good commendations from Companions. He is currently stationed on Ariel.

Ernest and Ethan have no record of using a Companion or seeking their services. Further digging reveals a long history between the two of petty crime. Ernest, in the last few years has had several warrants issued for murder while Ethan seemed to slow down. The father pulled some strings the first few times it happened. Even tried to get them to join the military, but they drifted off, seemingly to get as far away from their dad as possible.

One thing is sure; Ernest was not a bounty hunter, and never had been. His history is of petty theft and murder of those in his way. Had a thing for jackets, and killing people whose jackets he coveted. He was a known acquaintance of one Grant Mustard – who was known for “tinkering” with weapons, armour and machines to make them better.

At 8:00 pm, the Captain returns to the ship to find Ma feeding Asher coffee and making him eat. Although more lucid, the Captain can tell when someone been drinking from a mile away – but Asher has started preparing the ship for cargo transfer and checking munitions stores.

(You decide how to spend the last hour and I will back post if necessary)

Night Falls on Rocinante, 9:00 pm
There is a heavy bang on the cargo door. Outside, JW and Bailey wait with a couple of old wheeled mules and attached grav-carts. Also waiting next to JW is John Blake, the short, round banker you met earlier in the day.

(assuming you open the doors)

The miners get to work without much ado, hauling the containers of Ice off the ship and onto the grav-carts. From there they take it to the mag-train depot where it is unloaded carefully out of the containers and into specially designed cargo holders, all with a minimum of lighting. As they do so, Mr. Blake approaches Captain Wyatt. “Excuse me Captain. You did me quite a service today, quite a service indeed. If it hadn’t been for you and your men, I shudder to think of where I would be now.” He offers you a small wooden box. When you look inside there is money, in neat bills to a tune of 500 credits, “I wanted to say thank you and offer you a small token of my appreciation.”

Although there are enough miners, the work goes on through the night and it is 11:00 pm by the time everyone finished unloading. They bring the containers back to the space port and load them into a storage room. Bailey gives you 40 credits for the deposit on the containers.

“We are heading back to the Lawrence. Anyone like to join us?” JW asks.

Night Falls at the Doctor’s Place 9:00 pm
Fenris finishes pulling the scrap out of the small engine parts when he realizes it is getting dark. He needs to switch the lights on in order to continue working. He is also thinking that he is mightily hungry as well and should see if the doc has some grub. He swats at an insect that bites him on the neck while he is cleaning up his hands before heading to the house. No point greasing up the doctor’s doors and furniture. As Wolf reaches for the lights he yawns. Then he yawns again as he staggers over to the mule. Must be more tired than I … he thinks as he falls to the ground unconscious.

Inside the operating room, the knitter cracks open and the mechanical feminine voice declared the process to be complete. Sam gets up fast and fingers his chest and ribs – everything is looking good, if a bit tender. He heads directly to the side table and pours himself a drink, while lifting the lid on the tray. It looks like beef… but at this point, protein paste would be a delicacy to Sam. He downs the meal quickly while drinking from the bottle. “Gorram Alliance,” he grumbled, checking his Avenger before snaking another swig from the bottle, “Gorram Ludlows!”

“I hope you aren’t adding me to your gorram list.” A voice comes out of the dark. Sam has his avenger up faster than a man can twitch, looking around. Out of a darkened corner of the room, Brigit comes out slowly with her hands up in the air. She comes over to you slowly, discarding clothing as she gets closer. “I told you I wanted you more than I ever wanted a man before.” She says playfully as she reaches Sam and closes her mouth upon his in a passionate kiss. “The doc’s asleep as he is want to be by this time at night and Wolf is very, very occupied with his mule right now. You are feeling better I hope.”

(Assuming that San doesn’t die of shock, I believe we have trains entering tunnels, rocket ships blasting off, oil rigs pumping away, fireworks…..)

“I hope you aren’t adding me to your gorram list.”

Half of that last swig of whiskey got swallowed down the wrong pipe and he’d banged the bottle against his lip when that voice floated out of the dark but, despite it all, Sam’s Avenger found its way into his hand and trained on a shadowy corner before he could scarcely think it… Gorramit! I wish folk wouldn’ ruttin’ do that! He didn’t lower the pistol right away but his finger eased off the trigger some when Brigit separated herself from the penumbra, hands raised.

“Miss Brigit,” Sam blinked, the pistol lowering a bit, “how long you been… what’re ya doin’ here?”

“I told you,” she purred, seductively peeling off her clothes as she slowly advanced, “I want you more than I ever wanted a man before.”

Oh, Sam, you’re goin’ straight ta Hell, puhn yoh, Sam thought, unable to take his eyes off the woman, as the Avenger’s barrel pointed itself toward the floor, That there’s another man’s woman. His other arm wrapped around her, hand going to the small of her back and pulling her close to him as her mouth closed over his. Yeah, he answered himself as the kiss made him really not care, An’ that man’s got more ta his mind than takin’ proper care o’ this’n, don’t he? Gun ta jwo lu.
“The Doc’s asleep as he is want to be by this time at night,” she whispered, pulling away a bit but not escaping Sam’s grasp, “and Wolf is very, very occupied with his mule right now.”

Right, Dash thought for a split second, I probably oughta go an’ give ol’ Wolfy a hand…
“You’re feeling better, I hope?”

…Hell, I’d prob’ly just be in his way.
“Darlin’,” Sam grinned, his eyes devouring her as he reholstered the Avenger, “I’m sure feelin’ somethin’…”

((OOC: SqueeeeeerrrrK!!! There’s that fade to black moment… Just had to fire up a response to that last post, though. Rock on Sammy! Here’s hoping it don’t get ya killed!))

It seemed peaceful, quiet and relaxing to just be working on the Mule’s brake line as he attempted to fix it as best he could. With the brake line gone and his temp rig of air horn/brake for sure not going to last too much longer he was taking his time and going over it piece by piece. First he checked that the hoses going from the brake disc to the hover initiator were intact and found that they were, but very frayed, certainly needing to be replaced soon.

Next he checked the combination valve to see if it was leaking and that too was intact. It was when he reached the Thruster flow valve that he spotted the first damage, as pieces of the band’s instruments, had not only damaged the valves outside power booster but its interior cylinder wall as well. On further investigation he found a good bit of metal pieces lodged within the compressor manifold cover, the hydraulic fluid reservoir and even the hover combination elucidator. Though each was working at the moment it would all need to be replaced before it completely failed and speed control was shot.

From his kneeling position he took a quick estimate of the parts needed and knew he could get most if not all from Bailey’s old and unused machines. Hopefully the price would be low, hell maybe free after saving the bank Fenris laughed to himself.

Amazed that he had been able to rig the brakes at all considering the amount of damage Fenris stood to stretch, a cleaning cloth in left hand, his right hand in reflex slapping his neck as he felt a bug bite.

“Ai ya! Sand flea’s” he swore as he moved to place the cloth on the work desk and head for the house. Within 2 steps he was out cold upon the barn’s floor.......