"Up you get, sleepy head," Pete said, gentle but firm.  He took a step back waited for her to rise.  "I've found you some work at the local tavern, The Three Legged Dog.  The owner, Pinocchio, is a nice enough guy.  I'm sure he won't work you too hard.  There's a washroom through that door there."  He pointed at the bathroom.  "Get yourself cleaned up, I'll be waiting outside."

The veteran town guard watched the roads, down the hill, below.  Grasscroft was steady bustling with lunchtime activity.  He imagined circle merchants would be outside over the next few hours.  Heading to and from places like [i]New Brooklyn[/i] and [i]Liberty Heights[/i], [i]Uptown[/i] and [i]Sycamore Grove[/i].  There might even be some distant runners from the Commonwealth settlements.  Grasscroft sat fairly close to the border of Boston, East New York and West New York, making it a sort of centre-point of commerce in the wasteland.  Over the decades, it had grown from a small settlement, to about as big a city as one might see in New York.  Only Liberty Heights could compare.  And with that size, and good leadership over the generations, it was prosperous and safe, with well trained militia to withstand raider attacks and the weekly waves of feral ghouls.

When the young woman appeared, he flicked his head pointedly down the hill and then lead the way.

"Grasscroft is a nice enough place," he told her.  "It's safe too, as you can probably tell."  As if on queue, half a dozen guards armed with assault rifles went past them, heading up the hill.  "Pinocchio will pay you decently - enough to get yourself some food and another bed.  If he likes you, he might offer you more work.  Who knows, maybe you'll settle down here."

They walked through the streets, having to watch themselves as crossed right through a soccer game.  Dodging the children as he laughed, the ball came toward him.

"Pistol Pete! Pistol Pete, here!"

He kicked it towards the kid that called him.

"Hey that's not fair!" shouted another.

The got onto Main Street - the big road through the town, and from there they shortly found the tavern, The Three Legged Dog.  Pete stopped in front of it and gave her a dry grin.  "It used to have four legs, but umm... a few too many bar fights."

He went through the saloon-style batwing doors and raised a hand to Pinocchio, who was behind the bar.  "You're back," he greeted with a smile.  Pinocchio was tall, slender man.  He had slick black hair, warm brown eyes and an equally warm smile.  "And I suppose that this is my helper for today.  My name is Pinocchio, how do you do?"

He held out his hand to shake.