The Long Game

"Not a thing... They held close to their names and rolls. I don't even know what they called themselves save for the ape once called himself Carl." She shrugs.

i pick up my pistol rather less deftly than usual and say "why dont we continue this back at the barrow? im losing a lot of blood and i dont want to have to fight the guys coming to reinforce these mooks".

I sigh, sitting back on my heels, looking up at him in surprise. "You are bleeding, aren't you?" I stand, and study the wounds. "I can get those healing faster, when we get back." Then I glance back at the girl. Her face is bruised, her eyes still a little unfocused. Unexpectedly, a wash of pity runs through me. She looks so alone. She almost got your friend killed, a part of myself rails in protest, but looking at that young girl, it's hard to listen to. She was used, just as he was. I nod to the young woman. "Have you got somewhere safe to be going?"

"Safe?" She scoffs, "No such thing here; just less dangerous... I'll probably end up lying low in one of the pleasure houses and pray that these gents don't feel frisky any time in the near future." She rises slowly and winces as she stretches her shoulder. "You lot best disappear... I ain't above selling to keep me own skin on."

I shake my head. "Those wounds need tending, and you won't get that in any brothel. As long as you can keep your fingers to yourself, I've got a place where you can get fixed up and have a night's rest. And then, perhaps, we can talk a bit more. Food and lodging for information. How's that strike you?"
Slowly, the girl stands. She's half a head taller than me, and slender. Wafish, I think. I smile, and hold out my hand. "Bargin?"

She looks at Liv's hand then takes her arm just above the wrist, "Well enough, though I'm out at first hint that Lambkin over there is really an albatross." I begin to respond, but Liv raises her hand to silence me.

"And you're out the first hint that you've pocketed so much as a spoon or used your magics to try to influence the lads." I say, staring her in the eye. "You can call me Liv, and this is my home we're going to." Then I turn. "All right, let's get out of here."

i raise an eyebrow "whos to say she wont use it on the ladies?"

I sigh. "And that's Ignacy. He thinks he's funny. Feel free to ignore him."

Lily walks past Ignacy with a provocative sway of her hips and brushes the back of his hand with hers. "Why, nobody, big boy." she croons up at him before sliding past and down the stairs. Ignacy makes a noise of irritation and follows her, sheathing his sword across his shoulders but reloading his gun and keeping it palmed in his pocket. I shrug to Liv, "How far did she bring me?"

"Not far; I should be able to find a way back to the barrow easily enough"

I nod and turn to follow Liam and his sister. Surprisingly, and disturbingly, its not Liv that takes the lead, but Lily, picking her way down alleys and side streets till we step out caddy-corner to the barrow. Giggling when we question her on how she knew where to go, she sprints across the street and up the stair to the door before skidding to a stop and sitting on the rail, as debonair as you please, with one leg crossed over the other. "You coming to let me in? Your house might bite me if I try by myself."

I study her as I unlock the door. "You knew where my home was. How?" But she only smiles winsomely as she walks inside. I shake my head, looking after her.

"Nice digs," she says, flopping onto the couch, "I've been wanting to get in here since heard about it... You got to have some awesome bits stashed around here." She arches backwards over the couch to look at the far wall and kitchen. "Got anything to eat?"

"In the pantry." I say, pointing into the kitchen. I watch the young girl. "But first, let me see to your wounds. You're nicely bruised. Here..." I take a seat beside her on the couch, moving slowly. She's as tense as a bowstring. I reach out one hand, laying it on hers. "This only works with skin-to-skin contact. Try and relax." I raise my voice and my power. Finished, I open my eyes, and look her over. "Okay. Now you need food."

She curls her legs under her and twists so her head rests on the arm of the sofa, "Not hungry now," she mutters. I watch all this bemused and lean over to whisper, "Maybe we can use her as a mouser." before leaving for my room, several of the others rolling their eyes and following to their own respective berths.

As the room empties out, I watch the young woman, murmuring a song very low under my breath. Soon, her false sleep becomes true. In sleep, she looks even younger. I reach into a corner, and pull forth a blanket. I can't fathom why this girl engenders such a...tenderness, maybe, a protectiveness in me. She's all guile and bitterness and angles. All sharp edges.
And yet...
And yet I know what it is to pretend strength when you're terrified. Life alone, life wandering, is a hard life. And she has wandered only city streets. What those streets have made her may be hard, but only because the streets themselves are harder. She's like a kitten among panthers, trying to hold her own. Poor thing.
I raise my voice a little, ensuring her healing and a deep, deep sleep. With a last quiet instruction to the house to prevent her from getting into mischief, I stand, heading for my own bed. It's been a long, long night.