[h2]”Of Mice and Pigs”[/h2] [img]https://i.imgur.com/9aYNJyb.jpg[/img] Thanks to [@wanderingwolf] for a few choice words. If they’s a clipboard starin’ ‘er in the face, sure’n that meant she ain’t got the afternoon tah wander. And jest as certain, Cap’n left ‘er a note: [i][b]Kid, Freckles and I are looking into a job. Don’t conjure where that’ll take us, but ‘til we get the 411 there’s no harm in sniffing the air for what else we might catch. Take afternoon watch on the lawn chair. If folk come nosing about, get their vitals and we’ll follow up. [u]Don’t firm up any deals![/u] Your Brave and Beloved Captain PS: I take that back. If the deal’s really, really good, firm it up. And no kissing strange boys, young lady.[/b][/i] “Huh.” Abby grunted, then headed for her room. She stripped outta her cleanin’ garb inta cutoffs. Tahday’s tee shirt was yella, with two black, greasy lookin’ handprints right over her bosoms. [center][b]Mookie’s Wheel and Chassis Works[/b][/center] [center][b]Beaumonde[/b][/center] [center][b][i]”Front end alignments are our specialty”[/i][/b][/center] Uncle Bob always frowned when she wore that. He particular didn’t like so much leg stickin’ outta them cutoffs. “I declare, Chickpea!” he’d near spilt ‘is drink fer wavin’ the glass at ‘er, “What kinda sign yah think yer sendin’ ta ever’ man walks by?” She’d smirked an’ patted the Colt on ‘er hip. “Dangerous Curves?” That was tha only time Abby sassed ‘er uncle. Rememberin’ how he laughed still give ‘er a smile as she pulled a brush through ‘er hair. “Uncle Bob,” the girl said as she slipped on a pair ‘o’ canvas shoes. Sayin’ ‘is name again felt good. Felt like home. Uncle Bob had ‘is failin’s, an’ he was a man had his share ‘o’ demons. Past few years done showed her straight up all his weaknesses. But even when he’s knee walkin’ drunk an’ shoutin’ at ‘er over this, that, or t’other, he’s never hateful or cruel. She could see the fear in ‘im durin’ them times. Fear he wouldn’t raise ‘er right…or keep ‘er from harm. While all else about his life broke moorings after Aunt Lupe passed, Uncle Bob never stopped tryin’ ta do right by his niece. An’ fer that, she would love the mem’ries of her aunt an’ uncle long’s she lived. Weren’t no doubt she’s in a better place now, with good folk all around an’ life tah taste, but who she was come straight from that old pistolero takin’ on a child he didn’t hafta. Abby mighta had doubts about Blackjack Bob O’Halleran bein’ tha fastest gun in tha ‘verse. That book he waved about might be wrong. But she’d keep them stories about his doin’s all the same. Them, and The Gunfighter’s Code. She’d try hard tah ‘member all ‘o’ that, too. One ‘o’ his duels was fought right here in Khao Yai, at a saloon called Hap’s La Frontera. As she settled out front in the lawnchair, Abby checked ‘er cortex, an’ was all kindsa delighted tah learn the place still served liquor down on tha rough end a town. Tahnight, she’d wear her Colt, and go have a drink at Hap’s…fer him. “You got a pretty smile, sweetheart.” The man was old…right close tah Uncle Bob’s years, but that didn’t stop lecherous eyes makin’ their journey all about her. “Pretty legs, too. Where you headed?” Abby looked up from her screen. “Depends. Where yah goin’?” she countered. His exploration of her thighs halted. “That’s not how this works, girly. I ask. You answer. Plain as day.” “An’ I said ‘depends.’ Smart fella might read that as ‘open charter,” the girl replied. Spottin’ the beginnin’s of a grimace, she padded with “Yah look perty smart tah me. Yah got cargo, or just need a passenger berth?” “I need,” he growled, “to put a riding crop to the backs of those legs…teach you how to speak to your betters.” She already done sized ‘im up, but dropped one more fer tah make sure. “Spankin’s cost extra.” “They do?” There’s the final tell. A look flickered in his eyes, a flame of lust fanned by wishful thinkin’, afore he collected hisself an’ tried maskin’ embarrassment with a growl. “Don’t toy with me, bitch.” [i]Biàntài, through an’ through,[/i] she decided. ‘Verse was overflowin’ with his type. [i]Exactly what Uncle Bob warned me about.[/i] Abby tucked the cortex inta her pocket, freein’ the right hand tah lay near her Colt. “Don’t play yer kinda games, mister. Now step on.” He took sight of the gun, and her hand resting close by. “Congratulations. You just cost your boat a sizeable opportunity. Easy run for big coin…gone. I’d hate to be you when your captain conjures just who it was you pissed off.” “Yer prob’ly right,” Abby give a shrug, “An’ he gits tah spank me fer free.” There it was again, a quick flicker cross the eyes afore his face gone all flushy with anger. [i]”Qù nǐ mā de, biǎo zi!”[/i] the man raged, balling his fists. The deckhand took to her feet, gun hand now gripping the Colt in its’ holster as she squared off. “That’s on tha premium rate card,” Abby hissed. “Mister, yew really wanna walk on right now.” He appeared tah pull hisself tahgether. “I conjure I do.” With a couple tugs at his collar tah hide ‘is moves, he glanced about, sure an’ true checkin’ tah see if anyone’s lookin’, til he caught sight of Ms. Wyman at the top of the ramp. “There’s a way things work in the ‘verse for girls like yourself,” he turned with a sniff. “Sooner you learn your place, the better off you’ll be.” “Oh, I’m learnin’,” she answered as he took tah walkin’. Abby held stance fer a moment. When it was clear he wasn’t comin’ back fer Round Two, she spit on the ground. Ms. Wyman descended the ramp. “Are you alright?” “Tolerable,” The hardness left Abby’s gaze as she took in the passenger. “Headin’ out?” “Since I’ve decided to ride along for a spell,” Edina smiled, “thought I might grab a few things from the market. Need anything?” “Goin’ out my own self,” the girl smiled back. “Headphone shoppin’, an’ stuff tah make mouse traps.” “Do we have mice?” “Happens on cargo boats. Caught one. I’ma set up a couple bucket traps an’ see if we got more. Nothin’ tah worry about,” she added. “They’s more nuisance than anythin’ else.” The passenger chuckled. “Believe me when I say I’m no stranger to rodents. Had full on rats at our place in Pensacola. A mouse is a welcome relief.” Edina paused a minute, then spoke in quiet voice. “You really did handle that jackass well.” Abby’s eyes lifted, catchin’ sight of the man as he worked ‘is way from boat tah boat. “Mah Uncle Bob taught me ‘bout their kind.” Ms. Wyman turned. For a minute they both studied the man. “What a pig,” she observed. “Nah,” Abby watched him git turned away from an old sampan. “Pigs is nice.”