Devil's Own Luck: Part One

[Kasern]

A few notes before we begin:

This episode marks Part Two of our three part Season Finale.

This episode is going to be very different from anything we've played on Kasern- something off the charts, so to speak. So before we begin, I'm going to take a page from GrimJack's book and lay down a few ... well, in pirate parlance, we could call them more like 'guidelines'.

First- There will be no godmodding of anyones characters without permission, including, and specifically of, Admin controlled NPC's. I'll be more than happy to collaborate with any player on any fight scenes, action sequences, conversations with NPC's, etc. Often all it takes is a PM to let me know what you want to do, so please, don't be intimidated by this. But I do want to be very clear: We are playing to WIN. And so are the NPCs, just as much as you are. You cannot assume that they will not throw a punch, fire a weapon, or anything else. No one introduced in this episode is a cardboard cut-out or designated Red-shirt. They WILL fight back.

Second- Regarding technology: You will have what technology is provided in-thread, and nothing else. There will be no sudden whipping out of com units, corpads, sonic screwdivers, tri-corders, telephone-shoes, etc. I promise that I'll be very clear and specific about what is available to you where. If you have an idea for something regarding the available technology, pm me and I will yay or nay it. (Little Ben, Don't worry. I'll have very special specifics for you... ;) )

Third- Devil's Own Luck Parts 1 and 2 are Do or Die. There are no immunity charms. Every character is vulnerable, and every character is mortal. I promise I'm not out to kill anyone, and that I fully intend everyone to not only survive but to TRIUMPH! Because we are KASERN and we kick a&&! But remember that every move you make, every play you run, will have consequences -good or bad- not only for your character, but for other characters as well, and those consequences just might be deadly.

Fourth- Devil's Own Part 1- is laid out to be a pretty long episode- there are two layers, and I expect each one to take a bit to play through. If things seem to be lagging, I'll boost us ahead to keep things from jamming up. If you have to be out for a while, please contact me so we can work out how to run your characters while you're gone. :)

Fifth- If you want to be involved, you have to post. I won't be randomly gm-ing characters here and there to keep them involved in the storyline- no posts mean you are onboard Kasern in your bunk. (Or in someone elses bunk.... that's entirely up to you and the owner of said bunk... ;) ) I'm also not going to be creating small side-stories for characters to keep them in action. Sorry, gang! I know how we love our little side-parties, but it's exhausting for me and there should be plenty for folks to do in the main storyline.

Sixth- I am lying about one tiny little thing in the above list of items, and it is not the deadly consequences. ;) I'll leave you to guess what it is, though.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome, all, to Kasern: Devil's Own Luck, Part 1.

[Kasern]

IN ORBIT AROUND BELLEROPHON

Five days in the Black to reach Bellerophon. Five days, ticking by in the meter of seconds, and anxious eyes watching each ephemeral moment fade away, never to be recovered. Each member of the crew has spent the time in their own ways, reconciling demons, hunting angels, and, perhaps even finding them.

Now, outside the main viewfinder, the aquatic planet of Bellerophon, her oceans thickened grey and her land masses pale dun, spins from day to night. Cade Quinn has come to the home of floating islands of the rich and famous seeking answers, and seeking something dear that he cannot imagine losing. Are the answers here? And how does he go about finding them?

And how far is his crew willing to go to help him?

In the Galley, for the moment, all is fairly quiet. Mharck Garrett left on Santo, offered a position in a very fine restaurant, leaving the crew to muddle through with what supplies and spices he's left them. Strangely, in spite of the work-burden this has left the crew and passengers with, no one lets Captain Quinn cook...

Seconds tick by, peaceful slumber of the Black, but beneath the current of time, ripples have begun. Tiny ripples, but even the smallest can evolve into a wave that will change everything Kasern has known before.

[Brun]

Bolen.

That was all the card had said. Bolen and a wave contact number. Brun had memorized the number and destroyed the card. That evidence was easy to dispose of. The explaining how he'd been tied up and drugged, floating higher than a festival chandelier, was a little complicated.

So he didn't even try. He allowed Bit's rabid conjecture, the crew's goodnatured ribbing, and adorable Melissa's concerned teasing to roll off his back, muttering half-contained appeasements that he knew no one bought into.

In a bit of mad luck Quinn was busier than hell so at least he didn't have to answer to him. Tong was off on a business jaunt, hadn't even taken Batterly or Wytan with him... bossman wanted to get himself assassinated it was no skin off Brun's back. Hell, he had enough people to take bullets for right now.

And not least of them was a little boy.

Brun's bootsteps were heavy as he paced through Kasern's halls to the galley and put on fresh ... fresh being relative to beans ground, mixed with filler, frozen, and shipped all the way across the 'verse ... coffee. He needed to know what he was up against. He needed more information on little Ben. He needed to talk to Wainwright, find out what else he might know.

Starting a pot of rice, and chunking up some protein for frying, he knew the smell of food would draw the others even before he gave an all-call, " Food on in ten."

[Cade Quinn]

Cade came from his latest confrontation with Libby feeling, if not hopeful, at least something akin to it. There was eagerness in his step, despite the dark rings that spoke of too many sleepless nights, and his voice was more human sounding than it had seemed to him in days as he called up to the bridge, before striding in that direction, "Ho! Who's on deck?"

He needed his core crew, Zira, Ian, Stephen- his advisors, his... He chuckled at the term... His generals. He needed their steady support, their advice, and more than that, he needed them to be ready for anything.

Cade ran a hand through untidy blond locks in need of a trimming, and tugged on the hem of his worn Londinium Bombers sweatshirt. Hopefully, Stephen wasn't going to let his newly re-founded relationship with Garret get in the way of his work. Wasn't that Cade didn't like Garret - he did. And more than that, he pitied the guy. It was too easy to see how he could have become like that after the war, with bullet-holes all over his gut and not even his family to come home to. To easy to have tasted the painkillers the doc prescribed, and just kept tasting until everything else faded away.

He stopped suddenly, just short of the bridge, and reached for the doorframe, Kasern's strong steel under the calloused pads of his fingertips. Scarred. But still flying. He HAD come home. And he had a family- one he built with his own heart and hands. And he was never going down that road. Never.

It was with a deep breath and a grim smile that he stepped onto the bridge and wondered who he'd find there.

[Carter Goodspeed]

Bridge

Carter watched as Bellerophon spun lazily through Kasern’s forward windows. The blue dominating the planet marked the vast oceans of the world, and as he stared, the hue reflected against his eyes, seeming to engulf the dark brown orbs.

Slowly his custom black leather loafers began a measured movement: step to the right, drag the left, feet together…step to the left, drag the right, feet together. The rest of him slowly swayed at the hips and dipped at the shoulders. After a moment, his strong voice sprang into song,

”It used to seem to me
That my life ran on too fast
And I had to take it slowly
Just to make the good parts last…”

Dressed in a tailored grey pinstriped suit, the thief’s song grew passionate…the singer truly believing every word,
”But when you're born to run
It's so hard to just slow down
So don't be surprised to see me
Back in that bright part of town…”

His feet carried him in a slow spin, and with his arms outstretched, he tilted his head back,
”I'll be back in the high life again
All the doors I closed one time will open up again
I'll be back in the high life again
All the eyes that watched me once will smile and take me in…”

Placing his left palm against his stomach, Carter’s dance subtly morphed in a perfectly nuanced Cha Cha Cha,
"And I'll drink and dance with one hand free
Let the world back into me
And on I'll be a sight to see
Back in the high life again…”

The door to the Bridge opened, but Carter continued to sing as Kasern’s captain entered,
”You used to be the best
To make life be life to me
And I hope that you're still out there
And you're like you used to be…”

Seeing the lines of worry etched across Cade’s young face, the thief stopped his dance but continued to sing, though his festive nature was gone. Now the words sounded more like a pledge,
”We'll have ourselves a time
And we'll dance 'til the morning sun
And we'll let the good times come in
And we won't stop 'til we're done.”

Bowing to the Captain, Carter waved his hand toward the forward windows,
”It seems the cartographers were right…there is a planet here. Welcome to Bellerophon, my friend. Should I ask Mighty Kasern to land, or would you prefer to chat a bit?”

Carter’s face split into his normal smile, while his body rocked subtly to some unheard beat.


<<Lyrics by Steve Winwood>>

[Ian Dugan]

Five days in the Black left a mechanic with little to do. At least for his beloved engines.

Ian tinkered with small aux systems that affected the overall out put of the great engines. He managed to reduce the strain on Kasern by a factor of 12. An overall increase of six percent to the better of how the big ship ran.

When he wasn't tinkering, he was cleaning, when he wasn't doing that, he was trying to mend the brown Greatcoat, the Browncoat, that he had picked up on Santo in an attempt to avoid the Fed's that were after him

He wondered what Brandt and Colgate would do next time he ran into them. First wanted in conjunction for an assassination and now for disturbing the peace, among other things.

Ty and Rog weren't really that bad, as folk go. They had worked for a crooked Casino. He wondered if they were out of a job. Prolly not. They're too good at what they do.

He continued to muse as he continued to work on the Browncoat. Cleaning it, patching it and mending it.

He remembered the fear these coats had inspired, the first time he had seen a platoon of Independants charge his line. Later that fear turned to respect of a kind. Then his mind turned to the smile that Zira had in her eyes as she looked at him while he wore it.

In the quiet times, he thought of the Kaserns lost sheep. Boa, and their first Doc; Jean Bon and his dogs; Cai, thier first pilot, Mheerk, their cook had left on Santo...

The list kept getting bigger.

Now they had Bit, who had thought of him as a god at one time; and they had Stephen's friend on board

He still spent time with Zira, though, not as much as he could. She was on his mind and in his heart. She'd like what he had done for his "new" coat, he expected, thought he had not shown it to her yet.

He saw Melissa now and again, but that was strained at times. He found that he liked her company and did his best not to show it. He wondered if she thought he was mad at her, sometimes.

He still tried to make peace with Ben. In his mind the kid still didn't trust him. He had taken away his toys after all.

He mingled where he could and talked to his fellow crew, but mostly, he danced.

More often than not he could be found in "his" engine room, more than in his cabin. When he wasn't fixin, sleepin, tinkerin or mendin, he was dancin. Kas seemed to call out to him in ways that he could not even begin to explaine. He heard her music, her song, and it always filled him to bursting ... so he danced

[Zira]

There's only so many things you can do when traveling in the Black. Which was one of the reasons Zira was glad that she had a few of her books from home with her. And the one that Ian had bought when he and the doc had been out...not all that long ago.

How did it seem that everything happened so long ago whenever she thought about it. Getting shot... hell, her arm was still sore from that, though getting better every day. One would think that that alone would be enough to remind her that she needed to take it easy lest Rom had her hide for doing something to it.

She sighed and shifted around with her book in an attempt to get more comfortable in her cabin. The door was wide open and she could hear Ian tinkering with the engines again. There was a moment when she wondered what was wrong with them that time. Then hoped that it was nothing. They were all due some good luck for a change.

"Food on in ten.", came Brun's voice throughout the ship.

It broke her out of her thoughts and gave her the needed jolt to get up, put the book down and, as her ma used to say, rejoin society. She stopped by the engine room on the way, saying, "Food's ready. You joining us or should I save you some and bring it by later?" She didn't know if he was involved with anything or not at the moment.

[Ian Dugan]

Ian looked up from mid sway of his dance as the song of Kasern moved him. The coat tails of the Browncoat continued to move, for a few half seconds, as if the coat weren't done dancing, and settled down around his ankles.

He had put it on somewhere during his last bout as he had bobbed and weaved and pranced and swayed with the music that only he seemed to hear.

"Food's ready. You joining us or should I save you some and bring it by later?"

He heard Zira's voice and smiled. He straightened up.

"Ill come with you. Hold on a sec."

He moved out into full view of the door. He held his arms out, akimo, and displayed his handy work.

"What do you think?"

He spun around, slowly, to show the Browncoat in all its splender and glory.

"Might not be exact regulation. I had to take it in some and it still might be just a touch too big on me."

[Cade Quinn]

Bridge

”You used to be the best
To make life be life to me
And I hope that you're still out there
And you're like you used to be…”

Carter's dance came to a graceful stop, and Cade suddenly felt guilty for intruding as the smile faded from the ebullient co-pilot's face. His song continued though, filling the bridge with a senes of comfort, of triumph.

”We'll have ourselves a time
And we'll dance 'til the morning sun
And we'll let the good times come in
And we won't stop 'til we're done.”

"Sorry." Cade gave a sheepish smile, "Didn't mean to interrupt rehearsal time. Ya know, you should find a back-up band, get your own cortex channel."

”It seems the cartographers were right…there is a planet here. Welcome to Bellerophon, my friend. Should I ask Mighty Kasern to land, or would you prefer to chat a bit?”

"Well, those crazy map-guys gotta be right once in a while," Cade joshed lightly in return, even though his half-smile didn't quite reach his eyes. As the smile returned to Carter's face, Cade's gaze turned toward the window, and the planet filling the view. For a second longer than necessary, Cade just looked at it, then dropped himself into the co-pilot's chair.

"Let's take one more rev around." He suggested, "I need to think. And the view's better up here."

Closing his eyes, Cade found himself sighing, relaxing into the padded seat, "I gotta work out how to go at this, Carter. I'm a soldier, a grunt ... Strategy's for generals. There's too many variables, and not enough hard facts." Once the confession started, he couldn't stop it, "Liberty ... well, you talked to her .. you know how she can be. She's not saying outright it's my fault, but she might as well. "

"Unity Living is the only lead we have, right? Missing people, plus passenger ships with no passengers... that part looks like it adds up, but these guys, Dolenz, he's secretive. It looks like they've got a company office in The Dingle- offering private moving services to the rich and famous. And they've also got one of their charity branch organizations listed as being on Francisco Island- Some kind of counseling thing with day-labor hiring, I think, but without walking in the door, I can't tell. All the public information on this company is... well... Even if Melissa wrote it it couldn't be any rosier. They look like they walk on water- Or rather, DON'T walk on water, because that would be unfriendly to the Universe." Even though Cade's eyes stayed closed, you could almost see them rolling behind his closed lids.

"I can't exactly storm in demanding to know where Cassie is, can I? We need to know where those passenger boats are going, and who's onboard them, right? But I don't think their company line is going to be to hand over their non-existant manifests." With another sigh, Cade opened his eyes and turned from the stunning view outside the window to look up at Carter, seeing the gleam of sunlight reflected off the planet bathe the professional thief's handsome face, "And I hate asking you guys to pitch in on this. You know I do, but I got no one else to turn to."

[Zira]

Engine Room

"What do you think? Might not be exact regulation. I had to take it in some and it still might be just a touch too big on me."

A smile the likes of one that hadn't been seen since Alden Griffon had died graced her face as she took in the sight of him. It was a bit big, true, but it hung around his form the same way that she remembered the other coats did, back home on Athens.

"It looks like you belong in it, if you don't mind me saying so."

Zira stepped forward and brought a hand up to touch the brown fabric at his shoulder, then ran her hand down his arm until it met with the bare skin of his hand. Then she met his eyes and smiled again. "It's perfect."

[Garret Seward]

"If, as you claim, we've been 'over this and over this,' I have to wonder...just why...we're doing it again," Garret managed as they moved down the hallway, both tense and looking fresh from a fight or a good romp, the energy crackling between them suggesting the former. He popped a pill, his companion's suspicious glare stopping him in mid-stride.

"How many of those have you had? Have you eaten yet?" Stephen, disbelief in his tone, words coming fast, snapping with an emotion the hacker couldn't quite place. Worry? Anger? Fear? As Steve reached for him, Garret stopped his introspection. The two men toussled silently, wills battling with greater force than their forms. There was too much care there, too much mixed up past for them to throw any punches. Once Garret got the bottle into his pocket, the battle ceased, duelers eye to eye, chest to chest, panting.

"Relax, Warden," he growled. "I'm getting so sick and tired of all this; you're such a hypocrite."

"What?" Disbelief. Denial. Huen dahn. Garret moved away slowly, back to the wall. Gorram him.

"You started again and now you're expecting me to stop." The truth hung between them, pushing them apart. It should've been enough, but Garret couldn't stop. "You lied to me, you left, then you lied to your crew. Now, you're trying to play the part of the good samaritan, the generous patron, and make up for it by helping me. I owe you one for keeping me from the Feds, but I'm not your gorram charity case and I'm not letting some hypocrite shooter tell me what I need to quit!"

"If you're not a charity case, what are you doing here? Why did you find me in the first place?" Anger rolled under his words, unspoken threats heating his tone. Moving closer, Steve's dark eyes burned like live coals. Garret hated the softness that was still there, the calm and patience he'd seen the other abandon so rarely. Moving fast, he ducked under Steve's arm and continued down the hall, away from the bridge.

"I'll eat. Leave me alone," he demanded over his shoulder. There was no sense in answering the questions, no need to open those wounds. Letting his anger simmer, Garret popped another pill, reminding himself not to look back down the hall. Maybe if he headed for chow now, he could get to know some of this ship's crew before Steve turned up for his share of the meal. Resisting the urge to go to his bunk and tinker with equipment that still begged to be used, Garret headed for the galley.

[Carter Goodspeed]

The Bridge

"...And I hate asking you guys to pitch in on this. You know I do, but I got no one else to turn to."

Turning his gaze from the planet, Carter smiled at the man that reminded him so much of Eddie,
”My friend, I grew up around soldiers, grunts as you say, and I can’t imagine there is a general worthy of a salute that didn’t start out wearing boots very similar to yours,” he leaned down and grimaced at Cade’s footwear, ”Which brings me to a rather touchy subject. When next we find a port-of-call that offers us a moment of indulgence, I need to take you shopping. Don’t get me wrong, I think you carry the old sweatshirt look like a cotton king, but as a ship’s captain, you may need to dress the part on occasion.”

The thief’s grin grew to show that he was indeed joking…mostly. A moment later he fell serious, or as serious as his prankster’s blood would allow,
”You can learn all of the strategies and tactics in the ‘Verse, but what you cannot learn is instinct. You are either born with it, or you are born incomplete. You, my friend, hold a Master’s Degree in instinct, and if you feel that your path can only continue if we confront Unity then that is what must be done. But to do so effectively, you must remove Liberty and her beliefs from your thoughts…you cannot afford to spend time on the past. Cassie needs help…it doesn’t matter why, and as luck would have it Captain Cade Quinn, and Mighty Kasern stand ready to lend aid. The ‘Verse put as where we were needed…now it is up to us all to play our parts.”

Returning his dark gaze to spinning Bellerophon, he concluded,
“I am unfamiliar with Unity Living, but since you have learned where they hang their hats, I am sure I could find out all that we would need to know. Also, provided she wear something without a heel, I could take Miss Wu along to obtain any digitally stored information that might prove beyond my considerable skill.”

[Melissa Wu]

Melissa's Bunk

Melissa let out a sigh as she stared at the vidscreen on her desk, her right cheek resting on her fist as she said, "So many pretty shoes and no cash to buy them."


She was looking up shoes on one of the fashion sites on the Cortex, had been since they left Santo. She felt bad for losing her winnings. Felt bad for not doing a better job at keeping her cheating a secret and felt even worse for getting caught and almost letting Deliono have his way with her. Having to lie wasn't doing anything good for her spirits either. She didn't like to lie not even a little. To Melissa, having to lie to someone was just as bad as having to sell her body for money.

So for the past five days she looked up stuff like shoes, clothes, and tools to punish herself for having to lie and for failing the Kasern crew. Granted Melissa did go out to get food and to help out when she was needed, but she hardly talked to anyone when she did so. She even went so far as to avoid eye contact with Ian whenever she was near his presence.


Turning to Mr. Cuddles, who was sitting on her bed and staring back at her with his blank, button eyes, Melissa asked, "You don't have any cash on you by any chance, do you?" There was silence as Mr. Cuddles sat there unblinking and not answering Melissa's question. Sighing, Melissa turned back to the vidscreen and said, "Of course you don't, Mr. Cuddles. You never have any money."


She sat there and looked at the open-toed pumps with three inch heels in a sparkling gold finish. They were very pretty and cost a good six hundred Credits, which Melissa didn't have on her. Having seen enough of them, Melissa touched the right arrow on the screen and looked at the next pair of shoes. Before she could beat herself up on them, Brun's voice came over the comm.


"Food on in ten."


Her stomach gurgled at the sound of food as she turned off the vidscreen. She could go for some food right about now, even the stuff that Brun was cooking. Getting dressed in a pair of pink athletic pants with a white stripe running down the legs and a baby blue T-shirt with an anime duck on the chest, Melissa slipped on some flip-flops, closed her bunk's door, and let her nose lead her to the galley.

Galley

Walking into the galley she feigned a smile, deciding to be chipper and bubbly for a change and said, "Morning, folks!" Seeing Brun, Melissa grinned wide and launched herself in a pounce huggle at him. Once she came in contact with her target, she asked gleefully, "Whatcha making that smells so good, Brunsey?"

[Delilah Vass]

Hallway

Delilah kicked her feet up over her head until they bounced against the wall, grinning widely at the afternoon's accomplishments- the entire contents of her toybox had been turned loose out on the floor, three or four toys deep in some places, and war had begun. The battle-lines had been drawn, and things were looking grim for The Masterific Army of the Allied Animals. They'd lose, of course, it was a foregone conclusion- even general Lavender Pony could see that. They were wussy. Even the bears didn't have claws, they were all fuzz and sewn-on smiles, while The Splenderifficous Army Guy Gorilla Squad came with guns and muscles and detachable lava. She expected massive casualties.

It was gonna be awesome.

"Food on in ten."

Delilah stuck her tongue out at the P.A. She hated rice. There wasn't cheese in it or nothin'. That had to be bad for you or something. Like, you could die if you didn't eat enough cheese. You'd be sitting there eating nasty not-cheesy stuff, and your brain would go "Whoa, there isn't any cheese on this" and you'd just fall over dead. Bam! Or you'd get all gross and stuff and your teeth would fall out, like with scurvy. Yeah, and then you'd have to join pirates, wouldn't you, cause you couldn't be a scurvy dog without being a pirate, could you? Or a dog. So it'd be Brun's fault if she grew up to be a pirate, you watch.

Anyway.

She turned her attention back to the scattered remains of the teddy bear berserkers and rearranged them a bit so they'd fly all over the place and look really cool when the chupachabra threw a magic cow at 'em (she didn't have a goat, it'd been sacrificed by the trolls so the mighty evil god guy would stop doing evil stuff for a little while, like cancel cartoons, and blow up some stuffed animals instead). It was good they had magic, too, otherwise the stuffed animals would counter-attack and they would've been blown all the way back to yucky Earth-That-Was and got eaten by Reaver-monsters and vikings and stuff. Everybody knew Earth-That-Was was a horrible rotten place, that was why everybody'd left way long ago- Trisha from the Starr had said so, and she was twelve, so she knew. Delilah wished she was old enough to know things like that, 'stead a crummy stuff like Greek and maths. Maths was stupid.

Satisfied at her swathe of destruction, Delilah picked up a mostly naked geisha doll and an army guy she'd dressed in brown instead of purple cause the Muddies had cooler clothes, the leaders of their respective forces, and got up to carry them off to the other end of the field of battle, but she hadn't gotten two steps before she stopped in stupified horror. Creepy-quiet Stephen's friend was headed right for where she was going to have the final assault! The horror!

Delilah scowled, hugging the vicious warrior toys to her chest, and studied the problem like Orpheus did, trying to find a solution hat didn't involve him tattling on her so she had to go eat dinner. Or find Mim. She didn't want neither of those, she'd have to stop playing. A strategic retreat to the rear wasn't looking too good, neither, cause that was where she'd made a smiley face on the wall out of chewing gum, and she didn't want to be caught at the scene of the crime. She briefly considered throwing herself in front of his foot before he could wreck the battlelines, but afer a moment's further thought she decided on a timely distraction. Or a heroic last stand. Depended on whether the distraction worked, really.

Delilah moved protectively in front of the battlefield to block Garret's approach and blinked up at him with a ten-year old's solemnity, then offered him her least favorite, the geisha doll. "You wanna play wif Delilah? 'Er name's Starshiney Blue Stuff, anna she died alreadys, but she c'n be alive again if you wanna 'er ta be, mister."

[Brun]

Galley

"Morning, folks!"

Brun barely had time to turn around before he was attacked by a huggly Melissa. Fighter's reflexes were all that kept him from being bowled over by sheer cheery enthusiasm, a tough job even for the fiercest of men. A tough job, yeah, but someone had to do it. The security man returned the freindly gesture with a squeeze of his powerful arms that lifted her a half-foot off the floor, careful not to entangle the oily spatula in her dark hair. "Mornin' ta you, too, baby-girl."

"Whatcha making that smells so good, Brunsey?"

He set her back down with another grin, "Nothin' special. Protein and some more protein. We need a shoppin' trip pretty soon, or we'll just be down to the 'more' without the protein."

Then his expression turned serious, and he weighed his next words carefully, even as he pretended to shift his attention to the cooking food, giving her some personal space, "How you holdin' up, kiddo? You been awful quiet since we left Santo. Somethin' get you shook up back there?"