A tiny flicker, half sharp study, half bemusement, travels across her face, there and gone again like the fluttering shadow of falling leaves, though her voice stays easy. "Doc Holliday and a decent bra: all the support a girl needs."
He's helped her. He's also helped Bobo. It wasn't all that long ago that they found what was left of Levi, a shivering wreck of what was once a man left like so much detritus in the tangled undergrowth of the woods by the Triangle's edge. Doc is an expert in meaningful glances offered hand in hand with reassuring words; Doc is a professional gambler and a stony-eyed killer with tongue full of lies. Which Doc she's got here, offering her his support, she doesn't know. The one thing she can be sure of is that he'll do what he needs to put himself into a winning position. That she's willing to bet on, as sure a thing as looking down at a hand of cards and finding a royal flush.
She doesn't blame him for it, not anymore. But it's something to keep in mind, especially when the corner of his lips are tucking into his cheeks, a half-hidden smile she hasn't seen in way too long. He always did have a smile that could turn knees to jelly and make a girl forget all her best intentions. Her own lips twitch, one dimple pressing into her cheek with the quirk of her own mouth in response. "Without hot running water, it'd probably be a lot more exciting than usual."
Not a prospect she's against, exactly. On occasion, she's taken the time to heat enough water for an actual bath, instead of hiking all the way out to the hot springs, and it doesn't take much of an idle suggestion from him for her to be thinking about the big clawfoot tub she barely uses in her cabin. "The gin's probably a better idea. More popular, too."
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He's helped her. He's also helped Bobo. It wasn't all that long ago that they found what was left of Levi, a shivering wreck of what was once a man left like so much detritus in the tangled undergrowth of the woods by the Triangle's edge. Doc is an expert in meaningful glances offered hand in hand with reassuring words; Doc is a professional gambler and a stony-eyed killer with tongue full of lies. Which Doc she's got here, offering her his support, she doesn't know. The one thing she can be sure of is that he'll do what he needs to put himself into a winning position. That she's willing to bet on, as sure a thing as looking down at a hand of cards and finding a royal flush.
She doesn't blame him for it, not anymore. But it's something to keep in mind, especially when the corner of his lips are tucking into his cheeks, a half-hidden smile she hasn't seen in way too long. He always did have a smile that could turn knees to jelly and make a girl forget all her best intentions. Her own lips twitch, one dimple pressing into her cheek with the quirk of her own mouth in response. "Without hot running water, it'd probably be a lot more exciting than usual."
Not a prospect she's against, exactly. On occasion, she's taken the time to heat enough water for an actual bath, instead of hiking all the way out to the hot springs, and it doesn't take much of an idle suggestion from him for her to be thinking about the big clawfoot tub she barely uses in her cabin. "The gin's probably a better idea. More popular, too."