“You can stay here, or you can go hide somewhere else, but if this is your reaction to that,” she points to the guard with the barrel of her gun, then swings it back around so it's almost in position to fire, “then this whole town is going to be a nightmare for you, Photo.”
Photo just stares with wide eyes.
“I brought your camera, if you want it,” Lucinda offers, swings the camera bag Birdy made for Photo off her shoulder.
Photo still stares, hands trembling. Lucinda blinks at her, then sets the camera bag on the edge of the bed, between Dredge’s thigh and Photo’s foot.
“Both of you, try not to get shot. I have questions, later.” She looks between them, expression unchanging, waits for acknowledgement.
“It was me, Boss,” Dredge says by way of acknowledgement. “Mouth got away from me, and they added shit up. My fault.”
“I have questions, later,” Lucinda repeats. “Now you feed El and then meet in the square. Catch up with Twist and Drummer if you can, if not, meet on the main street. Anyone tries to shoot you, shoot them first. Are we clear?”
“Yes ma’am,” Dredge agrees, nods.
Lucinda nods.
“Good.”
She turns and leave the shack, doesn’t look back, just raises her gun again. She’s out of their view in a moment, footsteps soft on the hard dirt, even in heavy boots.
Photo fumbles for her camera after a moment, still unblinking, and points it at the guard's corpse.
There’s a click and a whirr, and she puts the camera away.
“You gonna look at that some day any different than you’re lookin’ at it now?” Dredge asks, eyes focused on the back of the house in front of them, where the whitewash is peeling off under the eaves. Determinedly not looking at the pool of blood, the corpse, the footprints in the dirt.
“Maybe,” Photo replies, turns so she faces the wall easier, puts her hand up to block her own vision.
“Shit, kid, good luck,” Dredge murmurs, reloads her shotgun one-handed, watches the doorway for anyone’s return or appearance.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (33b/?)
“You can stay here, or you can go hide somewhere else, but if this is your reaction to that,” she points to the guard with the barrel of her gun, then swings it back around so it's almost in position to fire, “then this whole town is going to be a nightmare for you, Photo.”
Photo just stares with wide eyes.
“I brought your camera, if you want it,” Lucinda offers, swings the camera bag Birdy made for Photo off her shoulder.
Photo still stares, hands trembling. Lucinda blinks at her, then sets the camera bag on the edge of the bed, between Dredge’s thigh and Photo’s foot.
“Both of you, try not to get shot. I have questions, later.” She looks between them, expression unchanging, waits for acknowledgement.
“It was me, Boss,” Dredge says by way of acknowledgement. “Mouth got away from me, and they added shit up. My fault.”
“I have questions, later,” Lucinda repeats. “Now you feed El and then meet in the square. Catch up with Twist and Drummer if you can, if not, meet on the main street. Anyone tries to shoot you, shoot them first. Are we clear?”
“Yes ma’am,” Dredge agrees, nods.
Lucinda nods.
“Good.”
She turns and leave the shack, doesn’t look back, just raises her gun again. She’s out of their view in a moment, footsteps soft on the hard dirt, even in heavy boots.
Photo fumbles for her camera after a moment, still unblinking, and points it at the guard's corpse.
There’s a click and a whirr, and she puts the camera away.
“You gonna look at that some day any different than you’re lookin’ at it now?” Dredge asks, eyes focused on the back of the house in front of them, where the whitewash is peeling off under the eaves. Determinedly not looking at the pool of blood, the corpse, the footprints in the dirt.
“Maybe,” Photo replies, turns so she faces the wall easier, puts her hand up to block her own vision.
“Shit, kid, good luck,” Dredge murmurs, reloads her shotgun one-handed, watches the doorway for anyone’s return or appearance.