The big woman laughed and the finely dressed man on her arm tittered appreciatively.
"'ere's a funny one, ain't 'e?" Her muscles bulged as she crouched down to imitate Glob's smaller stature. "'Oh, miss, may I shine your shoes? Oh, an' by the by, miss? May I rob you an' yer fine mist'r?'"
Her falsetto could have scratched glass. Globus blushed furiously in the dark, and the heated flush of new blood must've done something funny to his brain, because instead of slouching off he pulled out the pistol whose weight had been tugging steadily at his trousers since first watch, when he'd nicked it off a drunken watchman.
Its dull gleam sobered the woman, and her young man whimpered into silence. Glob noticed, too late, the silvery tattoo that emblazoned the corner of the man's right eye and felt his heart skip its beat.
"Y'know how t'use that, kid?" The woman's sudden stillness seemed eerie among the constant motion of the city's shadows. Globus nodded, but his hands shook. He should'a stuck to pockets. He'd die here on the streets with a gun he didn't know how t'use and oh, how th'others 'll laugh and laugh. He should'a stuck to pickin' pockets.
In a moment, the gun had slipped his sweating palm into the woman's large brown one. He might not've known how to use it, but she sure did, and he could feel the craftsmanship oozing from the way the firearm's empty socket stared him in the eye.
"Who's yer allegiance to, kid?"
"F-f-f-f." he said.
"Who's yer king?"
"F-fo." The muzzle twitched, prompting Glob to flinch, yelping slightly. "Fox!"
The woman grinned. Not evilly, just in the way predators have grinned at their prey for
"'ere's a funny one, ain't 'e?" Her muscles bulged as she crouched down to imitate Glob's smaller stature. "'Oh, miss, may I shine your shoes? Oh, an' by the by, miss? May I rob you an' yer fine mist'r?'"
Her falsetto could have scratched glass. Globus blushed furiously in the dark, and the heated flush of new blood must've done something funny to his brain, because instead of slouching off he pulled out the pistol whose weight had been tugging steadily at his trousers since first watch, when he'd nicked it off a drunken watchman.
Its dull gleam sobered the woman, and her young man whimpered into silence. Glob noticed, too late, the silvery tattoo that emblazoned the corner of the man's right eye and felt his heart skip its beat.
"Y'know how t'use that, kid?" The woman's sudden stillness seemed eerie among the constant motion of the city's shadows. Globus nodded, but his hands shook. He should'a stuck to pockets. He'd die here on the streets with a gun he didn't know how t'use and oh, how th'others 'll laugh and laugh. He should'a stuck to pickin' pockets.
In a moment, the gun had slipped his sweating palm into the woman's large brown one. He might not've known how to use it, but she sure did, and he could feel the craftsmanship oozing from the way the firearm's empty socket stared him in the eye.
"Who's yer allegiance to, kid?"
"F-f-f-f." he said.
"Who's yer king?"
"F-fo." The muzzle twitched, prompting Glob to flinch, yelping slightly. "Fox!"
The woman grinned. Not evilly, just in the way predators have grinned at their prey for
