LOG: Attempted Burglary, Street Urchins, & Rum Cake
Molly arrives home to find something badly amiss at the shop.
Glanworth is standing just inside the entrance - none too happy, if the pistol in his hand is any indicator of his mood.
"Oh, was that locked?" A look of feigned surprise, as too-large eyes turn curiously toward said door. "You been away from Begma too long, Glanworth." The girl's standing beside one of the larger machines, smiling vaguely at the irritated shop owner.
Glanworth says, "Ain't much in the mood for making light."
Molly steps in the door and her eyes go to the pistol first thing. With barely a pause to blink she takes a quick step away from Glanworth and scans the room. There's a flash as she unsheathes her knives in a quick motion. "Thought you were out of old Grudges, Chaz."
An audible sigh is released as Molly steps up with those knives. Another one? "Not a grudge, ma'am. Jus' curious." A one-shouldered shrug, and then another glance toward the door. Ready to make a run for it? "I was jus' telling your man here, was jus' lookin'. No harm."
Glanworth says, "No harm, she says."
Molly doesn't take her eyes off the intruder while she asks Glanworth, "You alright, Chaz? What's happened here?"
"Door ain' broke," Tess reminds, tone dry. "An' I ain' take nothin'." Yet. Molly's attention earns the woman a bright smile -- 'brows raised in something akin to hopefulness -- and then she's falling silent again. It's so much smoother when no one comes home.
Glanworth says, "Came home from dropping off my laundry. Found someone'd gotten past the lock on the door, thought she'd take a look at our stock."
Molly continues glaring at the girl, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "Seems awful familiar with you. What she said as I come in sounded akin to something we heard out Begma way." Her tone makes it clear this is not a good thing. She moves back slightly, guarding the doorway against a possible bolting. "What're we gonna do with you, girl?"
"Well," comes Tess's musing response to Molly's question. What're they going to do with her? "Rumor has it Begmans need daily feedin' an' waterin'. But not too much." A somber look, 'brows knitting. "We may rust." Then, green eyes sweeping toward Glanworth. "You can put that away now. 'less you plan on shootin' me? If so, best get on with it." Small hands catching at either flap of her trench coat, and pulling the thing wide enough to expose her dress-clad chest. Target practice.
Glanworth says, "Whaddaya reckon, Moll? She ain't so scrawny I can't hit her from this far."
Privately, to Molly, Glanworth is probably joking.
Molly cocks her head back, still looking at the girl. "Wager she's not worth the effort of the reloading." She reaches a foot back to kick the door closed.
Glanworth nods. "Reckon you're right. Takes a few minutes."
The word scrawny earns a pained look from the youth, but it's Molly's words that have her responding. A sober nod of agreement, and then she's looking back to Glanworth. Slowly miming the action of tucking that gun away, and then extending a rather dingy hand in invitation. His turn.
Glanworth thumbs a safety valve closed, and tucks the pistol away. "Might be you should tell me where you got my name from."
Molly is not quite so trusting as to completely disarm herself. She puts away only one of her knives. Her eyes finally leave the girl for a moment, looking up to the ceiling. "Chaz? Thought you said if someone broke in it'd wake half the city."
Glanworth says, "Might be I forgot to arm it. Ain't likely to make that mistake twice."
"Your mother, I s'pect. Maybe a sister." A one-shouldered shrug. "They all look th' same to me." Then, toward Molly. "Might be he forgot to arm it."
Glanworth says, "Don't recognize you from the old neighborhood. How old are you?"
Molly glowers at both of them and starts cleaning beneath her fingernails with the knife-tip.
"Twelve," she deadpans, picking up a glower of her own. Then, with a shrug, "You was gone 'fore I looked like a real person."
Glanworth says, "Moll? We got any of today's lunch in the icebox?"
Molly considers for a moment. "Might have a bite or two left of mutton. Might even be a couple hunks of cheese in there, if you think that'd do"
That'd do. The words aren't spoken, but considering the way Tess's eyes have locked onto Molly -- an apparent source of food -- they don't need to be.
Glanworth nods. "Morning's milk should still be good, too."
Molly softens a bit at the girl's look. She puts her other knife away and heads towards the stairs. She nods at Glanworth as she heads up. "Keep an eye on her. Be right back." She takes a step, stops and calls back down, "And find out how she knows your Ma!"
Glanworth says, "You heard her. Name might be good, too."
If Tess's smile weren't so frequently accompanied by wrong-doing, it could pass for endearing. And as milk is mentioned -- and Molly starts off to fetch it -- they're both gifted with just that. It's not often a failed break-in results in a meal. Then, with a soft snort, "'m from back home. Everyone knows everyone." Then, as he doesn't seem to know her, "'m Tess."
Glanworth says, "Been a while since I've spent any time at home. Who're your folks?"
Molly comes back downstairs after a minute or two. Her arms are laden with an assortment of foodstuffs, which she sets out on one of the tables; The milk, a small portion of mutton, a good-sized wedge of cheese. She's even managed to scrounge up an apple.
The question earns a soft hiss of breath from the girl -- meant to be a snort, but not quite making it -- and then she's shaking her head. "Long gone." Then, if only to avoid his irritation, "Marcus an' Miriam." It's then that Molly's emerging with that food, and any talk of lost parents is forgotten. Instead, she's taking a half-step toward the tray... only to pause and glance back to the Glanworth. Waiting for permission? He still has a gun, after all.
Glanworth nods towards the tray. "Names sound familiar. Lived down on Crookstone?"
Molly pulls a chair out at pats at the table. "I hear right, your name's Tess? Tuck in, girl. Seems you need it."
Glanworth's lost his chance at proper questioning. The mention of Crookstone earns a half-hearted shrug from the youth, almost lost in her haste to meet that tray. Dropping onto that chair without hesitation, booted feet folded beneath her, as eager hands go first for the milk. Glass held between either hand, and the contents tipped back with little to no attention to her benefactors.
Glanworth leans against the counter with the coffee engine on it, watching Tess for a moment.
Molly watches Tess go after the milk and looks at Glanworth, her brow just slightly furrowed in concern. She reaches a hand out, a light brush against his arm as she turns to the counter behind him and fiddles with something, a soft clinking and scraping can be heard before she turns back to again watch Tess.
Privately, to Glanworth, Molly has, of course, just cut off a piece of cake.
Glanworth says, "How long's it been since you've had a decent meal there, girl?"
Tess is ignoring the pair with a single-minded determination. If she looks up, they're liable to talk. You can't eat while you talk. And right now, eating is all Tess is interested in. That milk is finished with barely a breath inbetween, and then she's moving toward the cheese. Tucking a large bite into one cheek as Glanworth's question is heard, and pausing long enough to shrug. "People got diff'rent ideas 'bout decent." Another bite, then, "S'good." A tip of her chin toward the feast before her. A moment's consideration, and then a rather grudging, "Thanks."
Molly watches the girl eat for another minute before she asks, "Tess? How'd you get out here? Ain't you a mite far from home?"
Glanworth just waits to hear the answer to Molly's question.
"A boat," is Tess's cheese-muffled response. "Barbarians." It seems that's all they're going to get, for after a somewhat mournful look toward the remaining cheese, she's moving onto the mutton. She needs a bigger mouth. Or more time. For whatever reason, the girl's certainly... in a rush. Waiting for them to change their mind?
Glanworth says, "If you don't slow down, reckon you'll make yourself sick."
Muttering to Glanworth, Molly leans over, speaking softly, "Near breaking my heart, she is. And how that can be with me ready to gut her a few minutes ago, I just don't know." Aloud, she echoes Glanworth's sentiment, suggesting to Tess that there's no rush.
Glanworth looks at Molly, and nods. Then, to Tess. "And if you do sick up, we're all in it. Ain't got no one to clean up the place besides Moll and myself."
Glanworth's comment earns a raised 'brow from the girl, but she doesn't slow down immediately. In fact, she doesn't slow down until that mutton's been depleted of all edible bits. Leaving half of the cheese left, and an apple. The latter is fingered possessively, almost nervously, as she finally stops eating. Glancing between the pair. "Can I take it with me?" A nod to the cheese and apple.
Glanworth flicks another glance at Molly, then back. "Take it where?"
Molly says, "You keep hold of it, if you want." She turns from the counter to place a plate holding a slice of a dense rum-soaked cake onto the table. "Eat this instead." Turning back to the counter, she gives Glanworth a very clear nod of agreement.
Tess's lips flicker into a brief frown at Glanworth's question -- as much suspicion as dismay -- before Molly's permission has her tucking the foodstuffs into unseen pockets. Glancing then to the rumcake, before lifting green eyes back to the other woman. Openly questioning now, and a bit wary as a hand is extended to break off a bit of that cake. Finally, to Glanworth, "Haven't decided yet. I was lookin' about."
Glanworth says, "That so? Overwhelmed with options, then?"
Molly offers mildly, "Seems to me the girl was lookin' about in here. Seem that way to you, Chaz? Was you lookin' about in here, Tess?”Molly gives a little encouraging nod towards the cake.
Glanworth says, "Seems that way to me."
Lips part to respond to Glanworth, but then Molly's cutting off her lie. Chewing slowly on that rumcake, before sweeping a slightly narrowed look between the pair. Sniffing softly, then offering, "If you plannin' to sell me or some such, I'd suggest against. It rarely ends well." So much for simple kindness.
Molly laughs, "Don't think you'd bring in much coin, ragged little thing like you!" She looks to Glanworth, "Reckon we can trust her a bit, or think she'll have us cleared out by morning?"
Glanworth says, "That's up to her, now, isn't it. Seems to me, ain't many people in the city sell things like this. Which means any smart fence ain't like to touch 'em, and I don't much get the feeling she'd know where to find a dumb one. Now, you weigh something like that against a warm blanket and a promise of breakfast, well. That's a calculation a girl's got to make on her own."
Tess doesn't bother to prickle this time. Scrawny, ragged... she's been called them all. Instead, she's simply shrugging. Pausing in her fidgeting as Molly mentions trust, and then turning a look toward Glanworth to hear his response. His assessment of the shop's wares has her glancing around, and after a moment's consideration, she's nodding a sober agreement. Then, "Most of it's too big t'carry. I jus' wanted to look." Comforting, yes?
Molly nods soberly. "Be bad buiness, it would. And easy enough to track her back down. Reckon it might be worth giving her a chance." She starts to giggle, "Just picture it, though, her walking down the street with the Coffee Engine strapped to her back, near's big as she is and steam all leakin' out!"
Glanworth chuckles. "Well. What do you say then, girl? Figure you can trust us not to do you no harm, and we can trust you to leave our stock where it belongs, and we can continue this conversation come tomorrow?"
Tess doesn't respond immediately. It'd be rather difficult, considering the fist-sized bit of cake she just stuffed in her mouth. Giving her time to think. Finally, "That's a lot of trust floatin' about." Tone sober. Then, with a characteristic shrug, "Imagine that could work."
Glanworth says, "Mrs. G?"
Molly gives Glanworth a small worry-filled look, but she nods. "Imagine it could at that, Mr. G." She looks at Tess and says, her voice firm but non-threatening, "Right lot of trust there, Tess, girl. Don't go makin' us regret it, now."
The last bite of cake is taken, and then sticky fingers rubbed clean on her dingy skirt. Apple and cheese still hidden in her coat, and hands folded nicely in her lap. Completely innocent. "I won't." The first straight-laced response she's given. Eyes trailing once again between the pair. Waiting.
Glanworth nods. "I'll see to the locking up, then, and we'll see about some blankets for you."
Molly follows Glanworth into the back room and they return shortly carrying a folded cot, a small pillow and some blankets. She gives Glanworth a little rub on the back and tells him, “Go on up, Charles, I’ll finish down here.” She sets up the cot in a warm spot near the Coffee Engine before making the rounds to lock up, being particularly careful to arm the alarm system this time. Molly finally calls Tess over to the cot as she fluffs out the blankets. Molly asks, "Think this'll be cozy enough for you, miss?"
Tess kept to herself while Molly moved around the shop. Edging a bit closer to some of the more interesting machines, but doing well to keep her hands at her sides. Watching the woman rig the security stystem, but not commenting. Best not to push her luck. It's only as Molly beckons her over that she's returning her attention to the other woman, and after a slightly awkward curtsy, she's dropping herself atop the prepared bed. "Yes. Thank you." Dropping her eyes then, as she settles onto one side and tugs the upper blanket over her shoulders. Not bothering to undress, and apparently uninclined toward further conversation.
Molly watches, making sure Tess gets settled relatively comfortably into her bedding. "Sleep well, Tess," she says, going through the room and turning down the oillamps. "We'll be down in the morning to fetch you a proper breakfast." She goes over to the shop counter and picks up the locked cashbox, taking it with her to the stairs. "You need anything else, you give us a holler, hear?"
Tess simply... watches her. Not quite trusting. Not quite relaxed. If anything, it looks as if the girl's studying a new and peculiar device. Something she doesn't quite understand, that may very well prove dangerous. But she's already got her hand in the gears, and it's too late to pull back. So Molly'd hear a muffled, "G'night," before that blanket's pulled over red curls.
Molly stands at the foot of the stairs a moment, watching the lumpy shape on the cot before heading up into the flat above. There's a little click as the door locks behind her.
A shallow breath is released as that click is heard, and the blanket pulled downward to reveal green eyes. A slow look swept around the shop -- full of memories of home -- before a more wary look is turned toward those stairs. Toward the pair who've mysteriously offered her a roof. Food. Too good to be true, as far as a Begman street rat's concerned. She'll sleep with one eye open tonight.
Glanworth is standing just inside the entrance - none too happy, if the pistol in his hand is any indicator of his mood.
"Oh, was that locked?" A look of feigned surprise, as too-large eyes turn curiously toward said door. "You been away from Begma too long, Glanworth." The girl's standing beside one of the larger machines, smiling vaguely at the irritated shop owner.
Glanworth says, "Ain't much in the mood for making light."
Molly steps in the door and her eyes go to the pistol first thing. With barely a pause to blink she takes a quick step away from Glanworth and scans the room. There's a flash as she unsheathes her knives in a quick motion. "Thought you were out of old Grudges, Chaz."
An audible sigh is released as Molly steps up with those knives. Another one? "Not a grudge, ma'am. Jus' curious." A one-shouldered shrug, and then another glance toward the door. Ready to make a run for it? "I was jus' telling your man here, was jus' lookin'. No harm."
Glanworth says, "No harm, she says."
Molly doesn't take her eyes off the intruder while she asks Glanworth, "You alright, Chaz? What's happened here?"
"Door ain' broke," Tess reminds, tone dry. "An' I ain' take nothin'." Yet. Molly's attention earns the woman a bright smile -- 'brows raised in something akin to hopefulness -- and then she's falling silent again. It's so much smoother when no one comes home.
Glanworth says, "Came home from dropping off my laundry. Found someone'd gotten past the lock on the door, thought she'd take a look at our stock."
Molly continues glaring at the girl, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "Seems awful familiar with you. What she said as I come in sounded akin to something we heard out Begma way." Her tone makes it clear this is not a good thing. She moves back slightly, guarding the doorway against a possible bolting. "What're we gonna do with you, girl?"
"Well," comes Tess's musing response to Molly's question. What're they going to do with her? "Rumor has it Begmans need daily feedin' an' waterin'. But not too much." A somber look, 'brows knitting. "We may rust." Then, green eyes sweeping toward Glanworth. "You can put that away now. 'less you plan on shootin' me? If so, best get on with it." Small hands catching at either flap of her trench coat, and pulling the thing wide enough to expose her dress-clad chest. Target practice.
Glanworth says, "Whaddaya reckon, Moll? She ain't so scrawny I can't hit her from this far."
Privately, to Molly, Glanworth is probably joking.
Molly cocks her head back, still looking at the girl. "Wager she's not worth the effort of the reloading." She reaches a foot back to kick the door closed.
Glanworth nods. "Reckon you're right. Takes a few minutes."
The word scrawny earns a pained look from the youth, but it's Molly's words that have her responding. A sober nod of agreement, and then she's looking back to Glanworth. Slowly miming the action of tucking that gun away, and then extending a rather dingy hand in invitation. His turn.
Glanworth thumbs a safety valve closed, and tucks the pistol away. "Might be you should tell me where you got my name from."
Molly is not quite so trusting as to completely disarm herself. She puts away only one of her knives. Her eyes finally leave the girl for a moment, looking up to the ceiling. "Chaz? Thought you said if someone broke in it'd wake half the city."
Glanworth says, "Might be I forgot to arm it. Ain't likely to make that mistake twice."
"Your mother, I s'pect. Maybe a sister." A one-shouldered shrug. "They all look th' same to me." Then, toward Molly. "Might be he forgot to arm it."
Glanworth says, "Don't recognize you from the old neighborhood. How old are you?"
Molly glowers at both of them and starts cleaning beneath her fingernails with the knife-tip.
"Twelve," she deadpans, picking up a glower of her own. Then, with a shrug, "You was gone 'fore I looked like a real person."
Glanworth says, "Moll? We got any of today's lunch in the icebox?"
Molly considers for a moment. "Might have a bite or two left of mutton. Might even be a couple hunks of cheese in there, if you think that'd do"
That'd do. The words aren't spoken, but considering the way Tess's eyes have locked onto Molly -- an apparent source of food -- they don't need to be.
Glanworth nods. "Morning's milk should still be good, too."
Molly softens a bit at the girl's look. She puts her other knife away and heads towards the stairs. She nods at Glanworth as she heads up. "Keep an eye on her. Be right back." She takes a step, stops and calls back down, "And find out how she knows your Ma!"
Glanworth says, "You heard her. Name might be good, too."
If Tess's smile weren't so frequently accompanied by wrong-doing, it could pass for endearing. And as milk is mentioned -- and Molly starts off to fetch it -- they're both gifted with just that. It's not often a failed break-in results in a meal. Then, with a soft snort, "'m from back home. Everyone knows everyone." Then, as he doesn't seem to know her, "'m Tess."
Glanworth says, "Been a while since I've spent any time at home. Who're your folks?"
Molly comes back downstairs after a minute or two. Her arms are laden with an assortment of foodstuffs, which she sets out on one of the tables; The milk, a small portion of mutton, a good-sized wedge of cheese. She's even managed to scrounge up an apple.
The question earns a soft hiss of breath from the girl -- meant to be a snort, but not quite making it -- and then she's shaking her head. "Long gone." Then, if only to avoid his irritation, "Marcus an' Miriam." It's then that Molly's emerging with that food, and any talk of lost parents is forgotten. Instead, she's taking a half-step toward the tray... only to pause and glance back to the Glanworth. Waiting for permission? He still has a gun, after all.
Glanworth nods towards the tray. "Names sound familiar. Lived down on Crookstone?"
Molly pulls a chair out at pats at the table. "I hear right, your name's Tess? Tuck in, girl. Seems you need it."
Glanworth's lost his chance at proper questioning. The mention of Crookstone earns a half-hearted shrug from the youth, almost lost in her haste to meet that tray. Dropping onto that chair without hesitation, booted feet folded beneath her, as eager hands go first for the milk. Glass held between either hand, and the contents tipped back with little to no attention to her benefactors.
Glanworth leans against the counter with the coffee engine on it, watching Tess for a moment.
Molly watches Tess go after the milk and looks at Glanworth, her brow just slightly furrowed in concern. She reaches a hand out, a light brush against his arm as she turns to the counter behind him and fiddles with something, a soft clinking and scraping can be heard before she turns back to again watch Tess.
Privately, to Glanworth, Molly has, of course, just cut off a piece of cake.
Glanworth says, "How long's it been since you've had a decent meal there, girl?"
Tess is ignoring the pair with a single-minded determination. If she looks up, they're liable to talk. You can't eat while you talk. And right now, eating is all Tess is interested in. That milk is finished with barely a breath inbetween, and then she's moving toward the cheese. Tucking a large bite into one cheek as Glanworth's question is heard, and pausing long enough to shrug. "People got diff'rent ideas 'bout decent." Another bite, then, "S'good." A tip of her chin toward the feast before her. A moment's consideration, and then a rather grudging, "Thanks."
Molly watches the girl eat for another minute before she asks, "Tess? How'd you get out here? Ain't you a mite far from home?"
Glanworth just waits to hear the answer to Molly's question.
"A boat," is Tess's cheese-muffled response. "Barbarians." It seems that's all they're going to get, for after a somewhat mournful look toward the remaining cheese, she's moving onto the mutton. She needs a bigger mouth. Or more time. For whatever reason, the girl's certainly... in a rush. Waiting for them to change their mind?
Glanworth says, "If you don't slow down, reckon you'll make yourself sick."
Muttering to Glanworth, Molly leans over, speaking softly, "Near breaking my heart, she is. And how that can be with me ready to gut her a few minutes ago, I just don't know." Aloud, she echoes Glanworth's sentiment, suggesting to Tess that there's no rush.
Glanworth looks at Molly, and nods. Then, to Tess. "And if you do sick up, we're all in it. Ain't got no one to clean up the place besides Moll and myself."
Glanworth's comment earns a raised 'brow from the girl, but she doesn't slow down immediately. In fact, she doesn't slow down until that mutton's been depleted of all edible bits. Leaving half of the cheese left, and an apple. The latter is fingered possessively, almost nervously, as she finally stops eating. Glancing between the pair. "Can I take it with me?" A nod to the cheese and apple.
Glanworth flicks another glance at Molly, then back. "Take it where?"
Molly says, "You keep hold of it, if you want." She turns from the counter to place a plate holding a slice of a dense rum-soaked cake onto the table. "Eat this instead." Turning back to the counter, she gives Glanworth a very clear nod of agreement.
Tess's lips flicker into a brief frown at Glanworth's question -- as much suspicion as dismay -- before Molly's permission has her tucking the foodstuffs into unseen pockets. Glancing then to the rumcake, before lifting green eyes back to the other woman. Openly questioning now, and a bit wary as a hand is extended to break off a bit of that cake. Finally, to Glanworth, "Haven't decided yet. I was lookin' about."
Glanworth says, "That so? Overwhelmed with options, then?"
Molly offers mildly, "Seems to me the girl was lookin' about in here. Seem that way to you, Chaz? Was you lookin' about in here, Tess?”Molly gives a little encouraging nod towards the cake.
Glanworth says, "Seems that way to me."
Lips part to respond to Glanworth, but then Molly's cutting off her lie. Chewing slowly on that rumcake, before sweeping a slightly narrowed look between the pair. Sniffing softly, then offering, "If you plannin' to sell me or some such, I'd suggest against. It rarely ends well." So much for simple kindness.
Molly laughs, "Don't think you'd bring in much coin, ragged little thing like you!" She looks to Glanworth, "Reckon we can trust her a bit, or think she'll have us cleared out by morning?"
Glanworth says, "That's up to her, now, isn't it. Seems to me, ain't many people in the city sell things like this. Which means any smart fence ain't like to touch 'em, and I don't much get the feeling she'd know where to find a dumb one. Now, you weigh something like that against a warm blanket and a promise of breakfast, well. That's a calculation a girl's got to make on her own."
Tess doesn't bother to prickle this time. Scrawny, ragged... she's been called them all. Instead, she's simply shrugging. Pausing in her fidgeting as Molly mentions trust, and then turning a look toward Glanworth to hear his response. His assessment of the shop's wares has her glancing around, and after a moment's consideration, she's nodding a sober agreement. Then, "Most of it's too big t'carry. I jus' wanted to look." Comforting, yes?
Molly nods soberly. "Be bad buiness, it would. And easy enough to track her back down. Reckon it might be worth giving her a chance." She starts to giggle, "Just picture it, though, her walking down the street with the Coffee Engine strapped to her back, near's big as she is and steam all leakin' out!"
Glanworth chuckles. "Well. What do you say then, girl? Figure you can trust us not to do you no harm, and we can trust you to leave our stock where it belongs, and we can continue this conversation come tomorrow?"
Tess doesn't respond immediately. It'd be rather difficult, considering the fist-sized bit of cake she just stuffed in her mouth. Giving her time to think. Finally, "That's a lot of trust floatin' about." Tone sober. Then, with a characteristic shrug, "Imagine that could work."
Glanworth says, "Mrs. G?"
Molly gives Glanworth a small worry-filled look, but she nods. "Imagine it could at that, Mr. G." She looks at Tess and says, her voice firm but non-threatening, "Right lot of trust there, Tess, girl. Don't go makin' us regret it, now."
The last bite of cake is taken, and then sticky fingers rubbed clean on her dingy skirt. Apple and cheese still hidden in her coat, and hands folded nicely in her lap. Completely innocent. "I won't." The first straight-laced response she's given. Eyes trailing once again between the pair. Waiting.
Glanworth nods. "I'll see to the locking up, then, and we'll see about some blankets for you."
Molly follows Glanworth into the back room and they return shortly carrying a folded cot, a small pillow and some blankets. She gives Glanworth a little rub on the back and tells him, “Go on up, Charles, I’ll finish down here.” She sets up the cot in a warm spot near the Coffee Engine before making the rounds to lock up, being particularly careful to arm the alarm system this time. Molly finally calls Tess over to the cot as she fluffs out the blankets. Molly asks, "Think this'll be cozy enough for you, miss?"
Tess kept to herself while Molly moved around the shop. Edging a bit closer to some of the more interesting machines, but doing well to keep her hands at her sides. Watching the woman rig the security stystem, but not commenting. Best not to push her luck. It's only as Molly beckons her over that she's returning her attention to the other woman, and after a slightly awkward curtsy, she's dropping herself atop the prepared bed. "Yes. Thank you." Dropping her eyes then, as she settles onto one side and tugs the upper blanket over her shoulders. Not bothering to undress, and apparently uninclined toward further conversation.
Molly watches, making sure Tess gets settled relatively comfortably into her bedding. "Sleep well, Tess," she says, going through the room and turning down the oillamps. "We'll be down in the morning to fetch you a proper breakfast." She goes over to the shop counter and picks up the locked cashbox, taking it with her to the stairs. "You need anything else, you give us a holler, hear?"
Tess simply... watches her. Not quite trusting. Not quite relaxed. If anything, it looks as if the girl's studying a new and peculiar device. Something she doesn't quite understand, that may very well prove dangerous. But she's already got her hand in the gears, and it's too late to pull back. So Molly'd hear a muffled, "G'night," before that blanket's pulled over red curls.
Molly stands at the foot of the stairs a moment, watching the lumpy shape on the cot before heading up into the flat above. There's a little click as the door locks behind her.
A shallow breath is released as that click is heard, and the blanket pulled downward to reveal green eyes. A slow look swept around the shop -- full of memories of home -- before a more wary look is turned toward those stairs. Toward the pair who've mysteriously offered her a roof. Food. Too good to be true, as far as a Begman street rat's concerned. She'll sleep with one eye open tonight.