ikissdhimbck | OOM: Down in the East Texas Town of Galveston... -- 1888 -- for X-23

"Horse shit!"

The expletive comes from the poker table, followed soon after by chair legs scuffing hardwood.

And a few familiar clicks.

"Boy, you got an ace up your sleeve?"

"You know I don't."

"Roll 'em up an' let's see 'em, then."

"I ain't gotta prove a lick t'you."

"Like hell you don't. Do it!"

X goes stiff almost immediately.

Call it a holdover from being Security.

Or an X-man.

Or just X herself.

She flicks a look at Kate.

Will it be problematic if they interfere? To keep people from being killed.

(For now.)

The other tables tense just as much. That finely dressed lady leans toward her husband's side.

"I said do it!"

"You put your guns down now."

A shotgun cocks from behind them. Carl's got an eye on the table of roughnecks.

"There'll be none of that in this establishment."

Kate glances at X.

And nods.

Meanwhile, one of the sharps takes his gun by the barrel and clocks the man next to him, triggering a brawl.

X gives no warning before she moves, driving sharp punches and kicks at anyone's hand or wrist that's holding onto a gun.

No sense making it easy for these people to kill each other. (Plus the danger of stray fire to the people that are trying not to fight. If there are any.)

Noise erupts, and along with it comes confusion.

The confusion of a fight.

The confusion of blows connecting with heads.

The confusion of a woman delivering blows that connect with such vital parts of a man's physiology.

Kate wrests the shotgun to the floor to keep Carl from doing anything impetuous.

Once all the guns have been removed from the fray, X starts in on removing the actual combatants.

Nerve strikes are excellent for that!

And by and large they will not permanently inconvenience anyone.

She is good at being careful.

(For a given value of careful, of course.)

"What the blazes — ?"

As the first few bodies fall, the fray gets more convoluted. These poor souls don't know what to do with this woman! Most are too stunned to try and fight back. Some are just confused enough to throw halfhearted punches.

"Tarnation!"

The instigator of the fight is scrabbling around on the floor for his — or anyone else's — weapon.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Click.

The level voice, along with the cocked weapon, belong to the cowgirl now poised in front of him.

He stops.

"It would be stupid," X agrees, though she is not accompanied by the movement of anything like metal.

This is probably for the best.

She also dumps another half-hearted fighter to the ground, holding him there without too much effort.

Joint locks are wonderful things.

Kate nods in her direction, keeping her eyes intent on the man on the floor.

"She's right."

The man, winded, stares at Kate for a long while before his eyes dart to X, just for a half-second.

The man she has pinned isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and the rest of the rabble are either down or throwing their chips in. Smart.

Kate's gentleman raises his hands.

"Good choice. I suggest you git with your money, while the gittin's still good."

X will keep a watch on them as they go.

Just in case one of them is really stupid.

Then she turns to look at Kate.

"It is good," she ventures, carefully, "that no one was shot."

The racket won't die down for a little while yet — cussing, grumbling, muttering; men collecting their coin and settling their tabs — but the violence has passed.

X and Kate get incredulous looks, but no one seems dumb enough to try anything with a pair who already shut them down so quickly and so efficiently.

Kate re-holsters her gun, and gives X a nod.

"What — "

Turning at the voice, she spies Carl still behind the bar, gaze going back and forth between the women.

"What was it y'said you did again?"

Kate, without missing a beat, answers.

"We break horses."

"Kate is very good," X adds, expression composed.

"I am learning."

Carl fixes X with a stunned look.

Retrieving his shotgun, Kate hands it to him with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry 'bout that."

There's a long pause.

"Drinks are on the house, Miss James. Anytime you're thirsty."

"Why, isn't that sweet of you."

Kate's all sugar once more.

"Miss Talbot? Y'still thirsty?"

"Yes," X says promptly, looking at Kate.

Then she looks at Carl.

"Please."

It is only sensible to be polite.

And if she's careful to move slowly, and to keep her hands in plain sight at all times --

Maybe that's just coincidence.

A welcome coincidence indeed.

Two fresh sarsaparillas are set down in front of them. The rest of the room, used to such interruptions, returns to its typical hustle.

(Save for the one straggler from the card table who stuck around for a bourbon, and nervously hurries his way past the women on his way out.

Honestly, some people.)

"Invigorated for the walk?" Kate asks X.

Nothing gets you ready for some good clean fun quite like a bar fight and a sarsaparilla.

X considers this question carefully, head tilting as she takes a long drink of her sarsaparilla.

Then --

"Yes."

It's pretty true!

"That duster looks damn fine on you."

It's just an observation.

She knew X would fit in just fine out here.

Finishing off her drink, she tips her hat to Carl and leads the way out of the barroom. They're treated to more hushed staring as they go.

Outside, the weather is sticky. At this hour, the sun is high and it makes the air feel thick. It isn't nearly as bad as it could be further inland; at least there are breezes now and again, and with all the hustle and bustle and color of Galveston one could even forget the swelter.

Almost.

Kate's hotel is right in the center of town. Men, women, horses, children — the streets teem with them, all headed somewhere, noises and smells of all sorts getting stuck in the air.

"It is good you picked it," X offers, carefully. "For me."

Beat.

"Thank you."

She pauses once they are outside, nostrils flaring as she takes in all of the surrounding scents.

Just to be sure she knows what is going on.

The smell of sweat, both human and horse, is strong where they are, but the moist breezes off the Gulf bring the ubiquitous odor of oleander and hibiscus, and there are foods and hay and wool and commerce on the air.

It's a city. As much of a city as you could find west of the Mississippi. There's a helluva lot to it, but with all the peoples and uncertainty comes the adaptability and ease of blending in. The fine brick and granite buildings are new, but already a little less than shiny. The saltwater air eats at everything.

She leads them down Broadway heading for the southern coast, past carts and carriages, street vendors, respectable gentlemen leading respectable ladies along on afternoon walks, children hoop rolling and playing tag — something everywhere, but nothing currently threatening.

X keeps a weather eye (and ear, and nose) on everything. Just in case.

It's how she was trained.

But after getting a handle on the patterns of people and buildings and noises, she flicks a sideways glance at Kate.

"You will live here? Now."

Beat.

"Or you will leave soon?"

Kate flicks a glance back.

"No. I'll be on the move soon 'nough. Guess I'm jus' — restin'. For a bit."

Hiding.

Pretending.

"It's a big enough place I blend in all right. For now."

"Sometimes it is good to stop," X ventures, careful and serious in equal measure.

"But it is okay to like moving, too."

X does both.

And she does not judge. (Well, not about this, anyway.)

She smirks.

"Yeah. I'm jus' now figurin' out that first part."

With the help of friends who remind her to slow her ass down.

"I always thought people like Jesse James an' Billy the Kid lived such excitin' lives. Never thought 'bout how much work it'd be."

Street barkers are growing thicker the farther they go. With the smell of salt air comes peanuts, fried doughs, and saltwater sweets.

"It is work to stay still, too," X offers, after a moment.

She accompanies this with a gentle shove to Kate's shoulder.

Shortly after that it proves difficult not to give a street barker a short, sharp stare.

Personal space is important. So is the ability to keep her arms free in case of trouble.

At least he's only silenced for a minute or two?

Kate laughs.

It's not all that polite, even in a big city, for a young single woman to lose her composure in such a fashion — and at someone else's expense, at that. But you can hardly blame her. The gentleman shrinks like a delicate flower in a noonday blaze.

Kate gives X a nudge in return, feeling light in spirit at the joviality and still caught in the post-brawl high.

"Is that what you're doin' right now? Keepin' still?"

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