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perfectworrytitle: Showdown at the Cactus Flower Saloon (6/?)
verse: People's Republic of Heaven &![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
shiftverse
community:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writerverse
prompt: Phase #4: Challenge #16: Quick Fic #6
word count: 549
characters: Mariel, Nikos, Aya
rating: PG13
summary: In which Mariel defrauds her opponents at cards and Jet Alamande shows his face again.
Mariel sat at the table, shuffling one handed; her other arm was still bound up in a sling after being shot. Still, her good hand was deft and she wasted no time dealing in the regulars and passers-by she intended to relieve of most of their money and, if her luck held, a few other valuables as well.
Aya Scarlett, looking grand in a new pink silk dress, leaned in close towards Mariel. She rested her chin on her hands, gazing up at Mariel. The other men shot Mariel looks of jealousy and incredulity; this beautiful woman was fawning all over the dealer, who barely seemed to notice her, except to wave her off.
When Aya leaned across Mariel to stick a turquoise pin in her lapel for luck, the sandy haired stranger made a strangled sound. Mariel raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, son," she said. "Girl's retired."
Aya flashed him a dazzling smile and not-so-surrupticiously adjusted the collar of her dress. Mariel's eyes never left the table, though the other men couldn't help but let their eyes flicker over to Aya fidgeting with the buttons up the front. Aya gave a demure little pout, and still Mariel determinedly ignored her, but watched her opponent's hands for any tricky business.
She didn't even look up as a stranger threw open the doors to the saloon. Strangers were a fact of life out here.
"I'm looking for Mr. Vallas and Delacroix," he announced, his voice carrying over the general din of a saloon just after sundown.
That made her look up.
"A moment, gentleman," she said, folding her cards down.
"Can I help you?" asked Nikos, his back momentarily turned as he poured a drink. He faced the stranger and his easy grin disappeared. Mariel saw his hand disappear under the bar to where she knew her revolver was hidden. Following his gaze, she frowned.
"You again," she said. She tried to cross her arms in a standoffish manner, winced at her jostled shoulder, and stood with her good hand on her hip instead. She settled for lighting a cigarette, looking less suave and intimidating than she might have liked, fumbling the lighter in one hand.
"Me!" agreed the stranger, who unfortunately was no stranger at all, but Jet Alamande, a traveling salesman Nikos and Mariel had run out of town less than a year prior. Mariel had believed the lesson they taught him would have sunk in better.
"No vacancies," said Nikos immediately, although the sign out front stated, quite clearly, that there were rooms available. Unoccupied, maybe, but unavailable to Jet Alamande, who had scammed more than half of the town before Nikos destroyed most of his merchandise.
Aya sashayed up to Mariel and linked her arm around Mariel's uninjured one "Something wrong, sailor?" Mariel nudged her slightly behind, in case Jet decided to make a fuss. Jet raised an eyebrow.
"Afraid so, Miss Scarlett," said Mariel. "Some people, it seems, don't know when they're not welcome."
"I thought we made it pretty clear last time he showed his face in this town," said Nikos, arms crossed.
"Now now," said Jet, waving a hand in front of Nikos's face. "That's no way to treat a guest who came so far back east to give you a thousand dollars."
title: Showdown at the Cactus Flower Saloon (7/?)
verse: People's Republic of Heaven &shiftverse
community:writerverse
prompt: Phase #4: Challenge #16: Quick Fic #6
word count: 763
characters: Mariel, Nikos, Aya
rating: PG13
summary: In which Jet Alamande tries to buy back everyone's goodwill with an offer they can't refuse.
"Now now," said Jet, waving a hand in front of Nikos's face. "That's no way to treat a guest who came so far back east to give you a thousand dollars."
Mariel narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
"Cash, my dear girl," added Jet. "My charming assistant," he gestured to a greying man standing behind him so quietly that Mariel had not even noticed he was there, her whole attention taken up by his boss, "will show it to you."
It was Nikos's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why the money, then? I don't recall doing you any favors."
"I have my reasons," said Jet in a stage whisper; Mariel couldn't tell if he was being dramatic to play with them, or if he thought he was being mysterious.
"Share them or get out," said Mariel. "I don't need your money."
This much was true; rescuing Koji had come with it's downsides - her arm was still painful and nearly useless - but it hadn't been without it's perks and payments. His traveling companions had paid her and Nikos had been forced to admit that being shot saving his friend was worth more than the $200 she had owed him.
"Last I heard, you were in a pinch, Mrs Delacroix," said Jet. "Oh yes, I know. You're obvious."
Mariel frowned and drummed her fingers against her belt - a gesture that looked more impressive when she had a gun strapped there, but it was never a good idea to play cards armed.
"So," said Jet, inviting himself to a seat at the bar. "I heard you got my son out of a tough spot."
"Your -?" Mariel began, but Aya exclaimed "Mr Lero! Mr Lero Alamande! Mr Kotobuki's friend."
Mariel had to give it to Aya: she had an impressive memory for names. Probably, it had helped her remember who was worth the time to flirt with and who never sealed the deal. Mariel dug the heel of her boot into the floor unconsciously when she thought of it.
Aya pet her arm in a calming gesture, blissfully unaware of why Mariel suddenly became considerably more irritable, flicking her cigarette butt towards the door.
"That's the one, my dear!" cried Jet, who seemed incapable of speaking at a normal range. Quite unlike is quiet, reserved son, Jet was loud and flashy. He couldn't help but be the center of attention, even in a dusty backwater like this one. "His friend Koji, you'll remember, was in need of some help. I heard you provided," he said, with a nod to Mariel. "And here I thought you were a heartless wench."
Mariel sneered and Aya stamped her foot.
"Sorry, miss. I'm sure she's a lovely husband, but she ran me out of a profitable area without any of my merchandise."
"I'm not -" began Mariel, but Jet waved her off.
"We have more important matters to discuss than your romantic entanglements," said Jet, settling down. "There's the small matter of a thousand dollars that I am going to bequeath to this fine establishment. I'd rather do it over a glass of whiskey than under your suspicion," he added to Nikos, who had warmed up considerably at the promise of a payoff.
"Where did you come up with the money?" asked Mariel. Jet seemed sincere about his gift, so her voice was more curious than accusatory, although she couldn't hide entirely the note of suspicion.
"Here and there," said Jet with a shrug, as his assistant handed him a fine pen and a legal document, already written. "You're the one counting cards while your wife distracts your opponents with her, ahem, ample charms."
Aya smiled and batted her eyelashes.
"She's not my -" began Mariel again, but Jet cut her off again, shoving the document under her nose.
Mariel read it carefully, looking for a catch. There was none; Jet must really love his son to go around giving money to anyone who got him out of a rough patch. That, or - as Mariel suspected - the money was stolen, but the Feds wouldn't be looking for a saloon owner and a barkeep.
She signed, and so did Nikos.
Jet waved to his assistant again, who dropped a heavy suitcase on the bar. "Don't open it here," he said, uselessly. Mariel took it in her good hand to carry upstairs to the safe in Nikos's room. She opened it, shifting through the bills for any sign of counterfeiting or contraband, and again found nothing - except that she was warming in her opinion of Mr Jet Alamande.
verse: People's Republic of Heaven &
community:
writerverse prompt: Phase #4: Challenge #16: Quick Fic #6
word count: 549
characters: Mariel, Nikos, Aya
rating: PG13
summary: In which Mariel defrauds her opponents at cards and Jet Alamande shows his face again.
Mariel sat at the table, shuffling one handed; her other arm was still bound up in a sling after being shot. Still, her good hand was deft and she wasted no time dealing in the regulars and passers-by she intended to relieve of most of their money and, if her luck held, a few other valuables as well.
Aya Scarlett, looking grand in a new pink silk dress, leaned in close towards Mariel. She rested her chin on her hands, gazing up at Mariel. The other men shot Mariel looks of jealousy and incredulity; this beautiful woman was fawning all over the dealer, who barely seemed to notice her, except to wave her off.
When Aya leaned across Mariel to stick a turquoise pin in her lapel for luck, the sandy haired stranger made a strangled sound. Mariel raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry, son," she said. "Girl's retired."
Aya flashed him a dazzling smile and not-so-surrupticiously adjusted the collar of her dress. Mariel's eyes never left the table, though the other men couldn't help but let their eyes flicker over to Aya fidgeting with the buttons up the front. Aya gave a demure little pout, and still Mariel determinedly ignored her, but watched her opponent's hands for any tricky business.
She didn't even look up as a stranger threw open the doors to the saloon. Strangers were a fact of life out here.
"I'm looking for Mr. Vallas and Delacroix," he announced, his voice carrying over the general din of a saloon just after sundown.
That made her look up.
"A moment, gentleman," she said, folding her cards down.
"Can I help you?" asked Nikos, his back momentarily turned as he poured a drink. He faced the stranger and his easy grin disappeared. Mariel saw his hand disappear under the bar to where she knew her revolver was hidden. Following his gaze, she frowned.
"You again," she said. She tried to cross her arms in a standoffish manner, winced at her jostled shoulder, and stood with her good hand on her hip instead. She settled for lighting a cigarette, looking less suave and intimidating than she might have liked, fumbling the lighter in one hand.
"Me!" agreed the stranger, who unfortunately was no stranger at all, but Jet Alamande, a traveling salesman Nikos and Mariel had run out of town less than a year prior. Mariel had believed the lesson they taught him would have sunk in better.
"No vacancies," said Nikos immediately, although the sign out front stated, quite clearly, that there were rooms available. Unoccupied, maybe, but unavailable to Jet Alamande, who had scammed more than half of the town before Nikos destroyed most of his merchandise.
Aya sashayed up to Mariel and linked her arm around Mariel's uninjured one "Something wrong, sailor?" Mariel nudged her slightly behind, in case Jet decided to make a fuss. Jet raised an eyebrow.
"Afraid so, Miss Scarlett," said Mariel. "Some people, it seems, don't know when they're not welcome."
"I thought we made it pretty clear last time he showed his face in this town," said Nikos, arms crossed.
"Now now," said Jet, waving a hand in front of Nikos's face. "That's no way to treat a guest who came so far back east to give you a thousand dollars."
title: Showdown at the Cactus Flower Saloon (7/?)
verse: People's Republic of Heaven &
community:
writerverse prompt: Phase #4: Challenge #16: Quick Fic #6
word count: 763
characters: Mariel, Nikos, Aya
rating: PG13
summary: In which Jet Alamande tries to buy back everyone's goodwill with an offer they can't refuse.
"Now now," said Jet, waving a hand in front of Nikos's face. "That's no way to treat a guest who came so far back east to give you a thousand dollars."
Mariel narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
"Cash, my dear girl," added Jet. "My charming assistant," he gestured to a greying man standing behind him so quietly that Mariel had not even noticed he was there, her whole attention taken up by his boss, "will show it to you."
It was Nikos's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Why the money, then? I don't recall doing you any favors."
"I have my reasons," said Jet in a stage whisper; Mariel couldn't tell if he was being dramatic to play with them, or if he thought he was being mysterious.
"Share them or get out," said Mariel. "I don't need your money."
This much was true; rescuing Koji had come with it's downsides - her arm was still painful and nearly useless - but it hadn't been without it's perks and payments. His traveling companions had paid her and Nikos had been forced to admit that being shot saving his friend was worth more than the $200 she had owed him.
"Last I heard, you were in a pinch, Mrs Delacroix," said Jet. "Oh yes, I know. You're obvious."
Mariel frowned and drummed her fingers against her belt - a gesture that looked more impressive when she had a gun strapped there, but it was never a good idea to play cards armed.
"So," said Jet, inviting himself to a seat at the bar. "I heard you got my son out of a tough spot."
"Your -?" Mariel began, but Aya exclaimed "Mr Lero! Mr Lero Alamande! Mr Kotobuki's friend."
Mariel had to give it to Aya: she had an impressive memory for names. Probably, it had helped her remember who was worth the time to flirt with and who never sealed the deal. Mariel dug the heel of her boot into the floor unconsciously when she thought of it.
Aya pet her arm in a calming gesture, blissfully unaware of why Mariel suddenly became considerably more irritable, flicking her cigarette butt towards the door.
"That's the one, my dear!" cried Jet, who seemed incapable of speaking at a normal range. Quite unlike is quiet, reserved son, Jet was loud and flashy. He couldn't help but be the center of attention, even in a dusty backwater like this one. "His friend Koji, you'll remember, was in need of some help. I heard you provided," he said, with a nod to Mariel. "And here I thought you were a heartless wench."
Mariel sneered and Aya stamped her foot.
"Sorry, miss. I'm sure she's a lovely husband, but she ran me out of a profitable area without any of my merchandise."
"I'm not -" began Mariel, but Jet waved her off.
"We have more important matters to discuss than your romantic entanglements," said Jet, settling down. "There's the small matter of a thousand dollars that I am going to bequeath to this fine establishment. I'd rather do it over a glass of whiskey than under your suspicion," he added to Nikos, who had warmed up considerably at the promise of a payoff.
"Where did you come up with the money?" asked Mariel. Jet seemed sincere about his gift, so her voice was more curious than accusatory, although she couldn't hide entirely the note of suspicion.
"Here and there," said Jet with a shrug, as his assistant handed him a fine pen and a legal document, already written. "You're the one counting cards while your wife distracts your opponents with her, ahem, ample charms."
Aya smiled and batted her eyelashes.
"She's not my -" began Mariel again, but Jet cut her off again, shoving the document under her nose.
Mariel read it carefully, looking for a catch. There was none; Jet must really love his son to go around giving money to anyone who got him out of a rough patch. That, or - as Mariel suspected - the money was stolen, but the Feds wouldn't be looking for a saloon owner and a barkeep.
She signed, and so did Nikos.
Jet waved to his assistant again, who dropped a heavy suitcase on the bar. "Don't open it here," he said, uselessly. Mariel took it in her good hand to carry upstairs to the safe in Nikos's room. She opened it, shifting through the bills for any sign of counterfeiting or contraband, and again found nothing - except that she was warming in her opinion of Mr Jet Alamande.
