It is a warm summer evening in St. Louis, in an indeterminate and probably anachronistic year somewhere in the Victorian era. The when isn't exactly important; the feel is what matters
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He doesn't have the good-naturedness of the young man in the cassock; he has that desperation, mixed with the cruelty that comes of years of desperate living. And, when he looks at the girl, he has a predatory look.
"Hey," the man says, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her back toward him. "My money's as good as anybody else's. Who do you think you are? Think you're too good for me?"
"Well, Father, I was actually having some troubles while reading Jonah, just like you said for me to read. If we could have a walk, and talk about it for a while, I'm sure I'll understand better what the good Lord is trying to tell me."
Underlying that with a hand on his forearm, to steady herself.
She addresses the man from the tavern, "Thank you sir, for seein' me outside, but I think I'd best go with my shepherd."
"Of course, my child," Squirrel says, patting her hand gently. "Jonah's a tricky book, but I'm sure we can work our way through it..."
The man glares. "I see how it is, Father. A man like you with a whore like her--and here I thought you're supposed to be above such worldly matters."
He seizes the crutch of a nearby beggar, and takes a clumsy but angry swing at Squirrel with it. Squirrel, for his part, whispers "Run!" to Coreen, nudging her toward the alley, before turning back to deal with the man.
It doesn't take any more encouragement for Coreen to take off at a dead run, skirts held up in her hands to keep from tripping over herself.
She runs and runs, crossing and criss-crossing through the alleys and side streets until she has to stop, leaning against a shop window, panting for air.
The fight isn't a long one--the man is drunk, and angry, which throws off his judgment even further; Squirrel is sober and alert and pretty calm, all things considered.
So what he winds up running from isn't the soon-unconscious man from the tavern, nor even the man's equally-drunk friends who emerge from the tavern, along with a number of other patrons, at the sounds of a scuffle--no, it's another man who steps out of the tavern with the unmistakable aura of a man who runs this neighborhood.
But on the bright side, his path eventually takes him past where Coreen has stopped to rest. He stops and doubles back, a little out of breath himself.
"Get out of town, would be my advice," he says, offering her an arm for support if she needs it. "I was planning on staying for a while, but it looks like right now it'd be more prudent to move on..."
She is not bright and playful as the young man, but rather, trying to dig herself out of the palpable desperation the only way she knows how.
She plasters a smile on, wiggling and strutting, trying her hardest to make enough money for dinner, a drink, and a place to stay.
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He doesn't have the good-naturedness of the young man in the cassock; he has that desperation, mixed with the cruelty that comes of years of desperate living. And, when he looks at the girl, he has a predatory look.
"You," he says. "How much?"
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He looks to be the type to leave marks, and make a girl lose precious buttons off her clothes.
"Not tonight, Mister. Sorry, just waitin' for a friend."
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"Well, I can be your friend tonight, honey. How much?"
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It's probably a lie; a girl'll do just about anything for a very little amount of money, just to squeak by.
She starts to walk away, farther down the block.
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She's starting to get angry and scared.
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He reaches for her again... only to find his arm intercepted by a certain blond pseudo-priest.
"Peace be with you, my children," Squirrel says.
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When the young man interrupts, she blinks at him.
"And also with you," she murmurs, inclining her head the respectable amount.
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"This is between me and the lady, Father," he snaps. "You just keep walking."
"The lady is one of my flock," Squirrel says, calmly. "I've come to see how her studies are going."
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"Well, Father, I was actually having some troubles while reading Jonah, just like you said for me to read. If we could have a walk, and talk about it for a while, I'm sure I'll understand better what the good Lord is trying to tell me."
Underlying that with a hand on his forearm, to steady herself.
She addresses the man from the tavern, "Thank you sir, for seein' me outside, but I think I'd best go with my shepherd."
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The man glares. "I see how it is, Father. A man like you with a whore like her--and here I thought you're supposed to be above such worldly matters."
He seizes the crutch of a nearby beggar, and takes a clumsy but angry swing at Squirrel with it. Squirrel, for his part, whispers "Run!" to Coreen, nudging her toward the alley, before turning back to deal with the man.
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She runs and runs, crossing and criss-crossing through the alleys and side streets until she has to stop, leaning against a shop window, panting for air.
Reply
So what he winds up running from isn't the soon-unconscious man from the tavern, nor even the man's equally-drunk friends who emerge from the tavern, along with a number of other patrons, at the sounds of a scuffle--no, it's another man who steps out of the tavern with the unmistakable aura of a man who runs this neighborhood.
But on the bright side, his path eventually takes him past where Coreen has stopped to rest. He stops and doubles back, a little out of breath himself.
"Are you all right?"
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"Yes...for now. They're gonna come after us both, now. Satan's knees! What am I gonna do?"
She leans over a little, trying to get enough air in to think.
Corsets, as one might imagine, do not make that an easy task.
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He glances warily up and down the street.
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