Just Something She Had in the Trunk

Jacy responded to Riley’s summons to muster in a timely manner, but it somehow was not timely enough. When she arrived in the Cargo hold it was unoccupied and the ramp was down with a view to the dusty planet beyond. She parked her hands on her hips and looked around, the mule was gone. That meant she’d be walking wherever she went; it was a good thing her chestnut boots and their four inch heels were made for just that. She was dressed like a store bought cowgirl from the red light district. Her glossy brown leather pants were so tight they may have been vacuum molded or she poured into them and the long sleeved blouse she wore resembled a vest with a wide neckline that dipped past her exposed navel and ended somewhere below the belt. The front of that blouse had frilly ruffles that drew attention to its precarious constraint of her bust and was bleached stark white. She had a sleek brown Stetson style hat perched jauntily atop her head with pale white hair splayed out beneath. Her shiny pistol was in its holster strapped low on her right thigh and every step she took came with a soft creak and well placed wrinkle in the leather beneath each cheek of her eye-catching tushie. It was an entirely functional outfit, but not one most would attempt in a setting like Ezra.

She could go looking for Vas, there were only so many places he could be. Or she could make another statement. Yeah, she’d do that. Jacy found the wall-mounted intercom and leaned in to speak. “Deckhand Jacy Lloyd paging deckhand Sugar bear. It’s time for our unchaperoned social outing. I’m leaving this ship in thirty seconds and I desperately hope it’s at the end of your arm. Come on, Baby, don’t keep me waiting. Your life is an occasion, rise to it.”

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