It had been quite some time since Abigail wore her heart on her sleeve, and regardless of the gladness she felt when seeing that revitalized glimmer in Reuben’s eyes, her face remained utterly impassive. She maintained her seat on the bed unmoving, the supple definitions of her face seeming sculpture-like as only her eyes followed Rueben’s path. He was, after all, no threat to her. The well-known stories of his past, his respectable reputation and present conversation included, warranted no need for further caution, at least not in… [i]certain[/i] regards. 

Reuben, however, was still a man, and Abigail hadn’t allowed a man to touch her for coming on many months now. The last man to try and go taking her by the hand had ended up in the shallowest of graves. It was natural for a young lady to crave contact with the opposite of genders from time to time, but the condition of her heart, so be it her disdain toward men, had managed to abstain of such cravings. Nevertheless, she did at this time feel the necessity, or be it the obligation, to meet with Reuben’s deal-closing gesture. He couldn’t have known that by doing something so simple as shaking his hand would make this sole occasion whereof she had any variety of contact with a man, since making the acquaintance of Jacob Manning and his boys.  

For the first time since he entered her room, Colt Clementine’s eyes dropped from contact with Reuben’s and fell upon the grizzly extension of his paw. There they remained, staring as if she were looking upon a foreboding darkness. Her cute little button-nose nostrils flared along with her eyes, the sound of her teeth grinding clearly heard as she remembered to breathe. Some sufferable moments later, she forced herself to move, extending her reach to his. 

The firm heat of his grasp enclosed her own small hand like a glove. She froze, captured by the callused folds and sweaty textures of his grip. Her body shuttered at his touch. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. She felt the warmth of her blood rush her face. Prickles gamboled on her cheeks. The creeping of non-existent fingertips made their way down to the small of her back, causing her to shift like someone had given her an unwelcome tickle. Her facade had been compromised – the realization of which crafted a cooling flush of relief to then come over her, and in that instant, somehow, her power had been enforced. Her eyes, detached of emotion once more, shot back up to meet Reuben’s as she gave his large hand a firm shake. 

At the appropriate timing, she pulled away, yet not abruptly so. She found herself unexpectedly savoring the contact. Her soft, delicate touch danced awkwardly over the contours of his palm and down the length of his fingers as she slowly pulled free of his grip, and then sat herself back against the wall with perceptual ease. 

“No need to ru -” She slapped her mouth shut mid-sentence, acknowledging the fact that her voice had the trembles, and took a few shallow, calming breaths before continuing with her prior, unfettered tone. “No need to rush. We’ll be head'n out at dawn, so I’ll be expecting you’d be take’n some precious time with them whores and getting yourself some shuteye before we depart.” 

She gracefully returned the Colt to the platform of her thigh while using her other hand to brush back a fall of hair behind her ear. It was so, her hardened disposition and manner of speaking may have given some folk the false impression she was older than she actually was, even to the point of eluding their visual perceptions - but for anyone absent the knowledge of said applications, the silk of her skin, the absence of blemish, the largish of her eyes, and the curved softness of her jawline had no way of establishing her appearance a day over fifteen. By strictly all visual and thus deceptive accounts, Colt Clementine was the sweetest little thing to be viewing. 

“I have no intention of shirk’n payment for any services rendered. I ain’t expect’n any man to make his mark in my life for pure satisfaction of do’n a just deed for a tender little filly. So don’t you worry none at all about your worldly treasures, you’ll be no less than well compensated for your talents and time. My word is my honor, secure as houses on stone.”

She gives Ruben a deliberate looking up and down, narrowing one eye with some finalizing scrutiny.  

“And just one last thing….” She smiles. This act was unlike her prior effort, and could have been coveted as the most attractive gift in all of God’s grand creation. It was enough for a eunuch to feel the lure of. “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Luckshot.”  

While her smile ran away, a short wave of her Colt turns Reuben’s attention toward the exit. 

“Be sure to close the door on your way out.”