[center][h2]Thinker, Deckhand, Shopper, Spy[/h2][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2KDIbF6.jpg[/img]
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Felt good to be workin’ again.

This weren’t really workin’ like she knowed it, but Abby took comfort in bein’ busy on cap’n’s orders.  Osiris, Capital City in partickaler,  wasn’t winnin’ no love from her fer its’ way too clean streets, its’ way too ‘spensive stuff tah buy, and especially its’ way too fancy folk.  Stares she’s gettin’ made ‘er first think all them bruises on ‘er face come back, leastways til she checked ‘er reflection in a high toned shop window.  It was then, seein’ ‘er hair layin’ where it chose on a grey work shirt an’ denims hitched on ‘er waist that she conjured just what a sore thumb she was amongst folk dressed like they’s goin’ to a weddin’...or a funeral.

After sussin’ out tha trains an’ talkin’ with some actual workin’ folk, she got ‘erself onto tha poor side ‘o’ town.  On these cracked sidewalks, only ones givin’ her a second look was them’s had ideas about tryna hook young girls into whorin’....and she had answers all set tah send them on their way.  After grabbin’ some breakfast at the counter, a friendly waitress tole her jest where she had tah go.

“Wally’s Second Chance, hon.  Got all kinds of used clothes, blankets…just about everything you need, and cheap.  You want another shot of coffee?”

“Yes, thank yah, ma’m,” Abby lifted ‘er cup.

“I’m good with accents,” the waitress poured rich, black coffee, “but I’m having trouble placing yours.  Where you from?”

The deckhand swallowed a bite of egg, then washed it down with fresh coffee.  “Hard tah say.  Born on Santo, but I been livin’ on boats afore I could put two words in line.  Conjure I take after muh uncle when it comes tah talkin’.”

“We don’t get many like you on Osiris, especially in this part of town.  What brought you here?”

Abby thought on that.  Wouldn’t do tah say [i]“I’s kidnapped by some bikers who whupped an’ near raped me cuz they’s mad one ‘o’ ourn done killt one ‘o’ theirn.”[/i]  Her inner spy taught ‘er takin’ a sip ‘o’ coffee could stretch time tah put a good answer tahgether.  “Cargo run,” the girl said all simple.  “Conjure I should pay up,” she brought questions to a close.

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Far’s thrift stores went, Wally’s Second Chance had jest about anythin’ a body could desire.  Abby coulda loaded ‘erself right down with all make of things fer her quarters, ‘cept fer the fact that what she  bought she’d have tah tote back.   After a spell she settled on two of everythin’....blankets, pillows, towels an’ bath rags.  They’s one thing she had tah have, a blue an’ green striped mechanic’s work shirt what had tha name [b][i]Tyrone[/i][/b] embroidered onta tha pocket.  Havin’ that, she conjured she’s good tah go.

Or so she thought.  

She’d made a short cut down an aisle whet held lotsa toys an’ Noel decorations when she come up short.  Abby turned, findin’ ‘erself starin’ tace tah face wih about a hunnerd doll babies.  She stood fer a spell, just lookin’ at all of ‘em, and them doll babies just looked right back.  That’s when tha idea come, alongside tha voice ‘o’ her inner spy.

[color=FFD700]”...When you’re a spy, distraction is your friend.  The more embarrassing the distraction, the more effective…”[/color]

Tha notion got Abby tah smilin’.  None ‘o’ them doll babies smiled back.  “‘Scuse me, ma’am?” she waved down a clerk.  “How much can I git a dozen ‘o’ these for?”