[center][h2]Change of Plans[/h2][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2KDIbF6.jpg[/img] [/center] [color=pink]Abn8r Hey Alana, I know you’ve got lots on your mind. Just let me know you’re doing tolerable?[/color] Her latest wave done been sent, Abby tucked tha cortex inta her back pocket. She’s sittin’ cross legged, Tribal style, in a narrow little patch ‘o’ grass what was called a park for the poor folks. She swigged from a bottle ‘o’ water a street kid sold ‘er, an’ tried tah conjure her next move. No Alana at tha Drop Shop…just a room full ‘o’ misery like tah broke ‘er heart. They’d been kind enough tah take ‘er message fer China Doll’s doc, an’ she dropped coin inta their donations box afore makin’ the ten block hike back. So now, with tha sun dippin’ and completely outta notions, she sat in tha grass, watchin’ a mother an’ her toddler playin’. She had three days free…somethin’ both Cap’n an’ Yuri gone out their ways tah make sure she conjured. Day One was ‘bout tah shut down, and with Alana vanished she weren’t too sure what she wanted fer Two an’ Three. From where she sat right now, showin’ up at Vic’s fer breakfast an’ some more ‘o’ Lorraine’s teasin’ was the best thing she’d heard. Leastways ‘til she could hear if Alana’s doin’ alright. All around her she seen people comin’ an’ goin’, Folk headin’ fer their night work at resorts, dressed as wait staff, cooks, room service types, all clean an’ crisp as they hurried toward tha rail platform. Then, there was them whose day was done. Housekeepers, maids, them as rich folk called “the help,” trudgin’ slowly home tah tiny apartments an’ whatever sorta life their narrow coin purses could bear. “Ain’t ever’body on vacation, Chick Pea,” Uncle Bob once tole her. She ruminated on that, seein’ its’ truth in the weary eyes all about her…’til the world went all pigglety. She’s knocked ass over tea kettle, sprawlin’ in tha grass as somethin’...a powerful big somethin’...done come down right on top ‘er. Abby’s put outta her senses fer a tick as she couldn’t conjure just what’s goin’ on. Then, all sudden like, a tongue size of a beefsteak slathered right up ‘er face. When it drenched ‘er a second time, she caught on. The dog was solid muscle an’ gigantic head jest above ‘er face. She squinted, crackin’ one eye open tah get a look. Fer such a beast, he’s sorta goofy, huge body movin’ with each wag of ‘is tail. “ELVIS! NO!” By now it commenced gettin’ funny. Abby’s laughin’ as ‘er hands worked up both sides of the big head tah scratch the dog’s ears. He just licked ‘er face agin’ when ‘is owner caught up. “Elvis!” she cried as she hauled him back by the collar, “Let her breathe, ya big re-re! Oh, Buddha, miss, I’m sorry! I’m so…Cornflakes?” Lorraine, the waitress, peered down upon the deckhand. Seeing Abby’s good humor about being tackled, she placed hands upon her hips and a faux glare upon her face. “You tryna make out with my dog?” Abby wiped tha slobber away with a forearm, afore proppin’ up on ‘er elbows. Elvis whined, tongue lollin’ as he pulled against tha collar. “Didn’t know I was stealin’ yer man, Bugsy,” she quipped, offerin’ tha dog a bit of solace through a scratch ‘neath ‘is chin. “My One and Only,” Lorraine settled onto the grass, joining Abby in doting upon Elvis. “I bring him out here after work for a little play and a good poop.” Seeing good flow between the pair, she offered, “He sure likes you. Wanna join in?” “Don’t need tah poop.” Lorraine smirked. “You sure?” She waved her little bags. “I brought extra.” “I’ll letcha know,” Abby giggled. “Any luck with your doctor friend?” “Nah,” Abby shook ‘er head, hair gone even wilder than usual fer rollin’ about in tha grass. “I conjure she don’t wanna be found…leastways fer a spell. Left scads ‘o’ messages, though,” she give a sigh. “She knows how tah find me.” “How many you send?” “Five ‘r six. Why?” The waitress propped elbows onto her knees. “Smart to leave her alone for now. Any more waves than that’ll just creep her out…or piss her off. Is she your boo?” Abby glanced over, not sure if Lorraine’s jest funnin’ s’more or if the question come innocent. When she seen the girl weren’t sizin’ ‘er up for her answer, she said, “We’s close, but not like that. Jest a might worried fer her is all.” The deckhand reckoned it funny, but sittin’ here with Lorraine an’ her dog, words all just started comin’ real easy like. “We got shore leave fer tha next two days,” she said. “Alana an’ me had some plans. Sounds like they’s ‘bout tah change.” Elvis now lay between them, his mouth open as he panted happily under the attentions of both women. “So what you’re saying,” Lorraine responded, “is you’ve got the night free?” “Fer whut?” “Blood orgy,” With a chuckle for the offworlder’s confused reaction, Lorraine offered, “Okay, how about this? Come out with me and my crew. We’ll have some drinks, maybe dance a little? That sound like fun to you?” Abby rubbed Elvis’ forehead as she thought on it. By rights, she should head fer tha boat. See if they’s word from Alana. They give ‘er time off, but she’s fer sure certain ain’t Cap’n or Yuri laid eyes on tha lower deck lav. [i]La shi[/i] needed doin’. She really oughtta git at it…There’s Lorraine. [i]Creepifyin’ how she can read muh thoughts,[/i] the deckhand conjured as the waitress give ‘er some big puppy dog eyes. “Yeah,” she heard ‘er voice sayin’. “Sounds like fun.” ‘SHINY!” Lorraine was on her feet. “We are gonna have a serious good time!” She hauled Abby to her feet, then led the way, her arm draped about the girl’s shoulders as Elvis fell in at their side. “My peeps are gonna love you, Cornflakes! There’s a place we hang out…The Lair,” she grinned as they hurried down the street. “They’ve got a killer band there tonight, and not a single gorram tourist!” “Cept fer me,” Abby quipped as she’s bein’ nudged along. All sudden like she pulled up short, stoppin’ em both in tha street. “I dunno…sorta sounds like I ain’t gon’ get in there…’specially in togs like I got on right now.” As she spoke, she waved a hand over ‘er top, tha shorts, an’ canvas shoes. Lorraine grinned. “[i]Bùyòng dānxīn[/i]**, Cornflakes. Leave everything to your old pal Bugsy.” **No worries