"Miss Reaver 2519"

Marisol’s brows lifted in surprise. “Wow, Beef Wellington,” she exclaimed with a smile. “Now I’ve got to…” Her words stopped cold at the sound of a new voice.

"I didn't see anything, I swear! I just wanted to get something to eat, but I'm good, I'm good! I'll be… " The girl’s eyes were wide in alarm as she took a reflexive step back. Her stunned observation inspired Marisol to size herself up. With her blood spattered wife beater shirt and wildly tossed her, she looked every bit the madwoman. The morbid image was completed with the camp saw and axe, dripping as they dangled from her blood soaked hands. Despite herself, the mechanic laughed. “It’s okay,” she smiled at the girl. “I’m not a Reaver…yet.”

"That's --beef? I mean, not like... people or anything, right?" She was coming around from Marisol’s somewhat murderous first impression. The girl was young…perhaps younger than her daughter Maria…with a pretty face and deep eyes that could convey any emotion with ease. And for now, those eyes radiated a wary sort of discomfort.

“Just beef,” the Spanic woman nodded. As Lyen stepped gracefully in to guide the child toward a meal, the mechanic tucked the tools beneath an arm. “Nice to meet you…Serena, is it? I’m Marisol,” she thought to offer her hand in greeting, then withdrew the macabre appendage. “Think I’d better go clean up,” she said as a sheepish exit was on her mind.

Moments later, behind the newfound luxury of an actual shower curtain, Marisol scrubbed off the blood and sweat of the day. Despite their tussle with Reavers and what news was beginning to filter back about the slavers, she found herself a contentment as the shampoo ran through her hair. There was baking to think about. Hotdog buns were one thing, but attempting the flaky pastry of a Beef Wellington…well, that was going to be a challenge with the sort of supplies she could latch to in the ‘verse. Might call for several experiments. Buddha knew they had the beef.

And time. Plenty of it, before whatever lay ahead at New Kasmir.

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