Maggie was startled out of her usual afternoon haze by the sound of boots on the front porch. She watched the door with apprehension, the unpleasant always seeming to sneak up on her.
The door opened with a creak and a tall and slim figure stepped in. He looked like he had walked out of one of Cricket's Western stories, a Gun Slinger if Maggie remembered right. A black Stetson, a long coat, riding pants, spurred boots, and hip holsters. Maggie tried to get a look at his face but a red bandana covered half of it, leaving only dirt coated skin and blue eyes visible.
"Afternoon, can I get you anything?" she asked out of polite instinct. "Some water? Coffee maybe?"
The stranger seemed to just notice that she was there, a surprised look passing across the blue eyes before they crinkled at the edges. "Coffee would be awfully nice," he said, starting towards the bar.
Maggie hadn't expected his voice to be quite so high, she had expected him to sound like Forest or Howard. "Comin' right up," she said, daring to turn her back to grab a mug and the coffee pot. "Sugar and milk?" she asked on the off chance.
"If you don't mind."
Maggie was surprised again. She'd never met a man who took sugar and milk with their coffee. She poured the cup before grabbing the white sugar bowl and the jar of milk from the cooler. "There you go."
"Thank you kindly," he said as he settled on the barstool, his coat flared out behind him.
Maggie couldn't help but watch him as he spooned several helpings of sugar into the brown liquid before pouring in a generous amount of milk. By the time he was done stirring the coffee was a dark beige color.
"You're new, aren' you?" he asked, reaching a gloved hand up to pull the bandana down around their neck. "I would remember you if you weren'."
She nodded. "I am," she answered, silently cursing the angle of his hat. She still couldn't see his face. "Been here about two weeks."
He took a tentative sip of his coffee, paused, and shoveled another spoonful of sugar into it. "How d'you like it?"
"I like it just fine," she said with a nod.
"The boys treatin' you right?"
Maggie assumed that 'the boys' were the Bondurant's. "They've been perfect gentlemen."
An unmanly titter of chuckles left him as he shook his head. "I can' see Howie actin' the gentlemen. Somethin' about that just doesn' seem right."
She had the distinct feeling that she was missing something, an inside joke or a tidbit of information no one had cared to share. "Have you known them long?"
The hat tipped to the side. "I guess you could say that," he allowed.
"Do you-" she hesitated, not sure if she should as or not.
"Do I what?" he prompted.
"Do you work with them?"
Another unmanly chuckle left him. "That would be a sight. Nah, my business and their business doesn' mix well. I'm just a friend."
She nodded at that, still a little unsure. "And what is it that you do?"
He was quiet for a moment and sipped his coffee again. "Honestly, darlin', the fact that you don' know probably means that you shouldn'," he said, his tone surprisingly conversational; not confrontational. "I get in a whole lot more trouble with my business then they get with theirs."
That made her uneasy. Bootlegging was pretty serious trouble, plenty of people get killed or thrown in prison for it. Maybe it was like some of the things she had seen in Chicago, the things she had ran from. "Well, if it's anythin' like the Bondurant's then I'm sure that's true."
He gave a nod. "It's true," he agreed. "You run into trouble here yet? Some of their customers arn' that kind."
She shifted uncomfortably. "Nothin' that couldn't be handled."
"Well that's good, I suppose," he mumbled. "Can't have you scared off. I know the boys have a hell of a time findin' someone to manage this place. Forrest can cook, though there isn' much variety with that, Howie wouldn' know how to turn on the damn stove, and Jack tends to burn anythin' he touches," he told her. "It's a miracle those boys have made it as far as they have."
That knowledge was something that was learned over time, observed rather than told. Maggie confirmed her suspicions of him being a childhood friend, someone who had been with the Bondurant's for a respectable amount of years. "Are you here for a visit? Or are you stayin' in Franklin?"
"Bit of both," he answered. "Visitin' for the friends and stayin' for the small town. I got in a bit of trouble few days ago, need to keep my head down for a while."
Maggie refrained from asking him what kind of trouble. "They aren't here. At least, not right now," she said instead.
"I know. They're out on a run," he mused. "When are you supposed to close up?"
She glanced over to the clock on the wall. "Half hour," she answered. "They're supposed to be back before then."
"They will," he assured her. "Forrest keeps a tight schedule."
Maggie caught the slight inclination when he said Forrest's name, a certain fondness to it. "Would you like something to eat while you're waitin'?" she asked, a part of her head telling her to change the subject to something more casual. "We have burgers or I could make you a sandwich if you'd like?" she offered.
"Whatever you have layin' around will do. I don' want to put you out."
Maggie shook her head. "You're not putting me out," she denied. "Which would you like?"
"Well, if you insist, a sandwich would do just fine."
"I'll get to it," she said and once again turned her back on him to get to work. She was a little relieved to be busy. There was something about the stranger that didn't sit right with her, something that she couldn't put her finger on. It took her a few minutes to put it all together, taking extra care due to the fact that he was a friend of the Bondurant's. She had just set it in front of him when the roar of an engine alerted them to the brothers' arrival.
"No way," Jack's voice was heard before he burst through the door. He paused long enough to spot the man at the bar before running forward again, straight to him. "Sam!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his waist and hoisting him off the stool.
"Jack!" the man snapped as he ripped from the bar, his mug of coffee going with him and sloshing all over the place. "Jack, put me down!"
That was the moment that Maggie realized that the man she had been speaking with wasn't a man at all. In the process of being lifted off the stool the hat had been knocked off, revealing a dirty but still stunning face and bright blonde hair that had been twisted up onto her head in a bun.
"Jack, I swear to God!" the woman, Sam according to Jack, shouted as she struggled against the boy's hold. "Don' make me hurt you!"
Jack ignored her and continued to spin her around, his laughter echoing through the station.
Maggie was about to shout at him to put her down when Howard and Forrest stepped in, neither of them seeming all that surprised at what they found their brother doing.
"Jack, put her down now," Forrest said, not having to raise his voice to be heard.
Jack came to a stop and set Sam back onto her feet, the woman throwing her elbow back to catch his stomach as she stepped away. He huffed and slumped back, doubling over himself with a wince.
"I ought to slap you silly, Jackie boy," she told him, pointing a threatening finger at him. "Look at what you did. You're lucky I didn' drop the damn mug too," she grumbled, setting the now empty brown coffee mug onto the bar.
Maggie took note of how half of it was on the flour and the other half was on her. She grabbed a rag and moved to mop up the floor, only to stop when Sam gave her a pointed look.
"That ain' your mess, darlin'," she told her, holding a hand out. "We're goin' to let Jack clean that up."
Maggie hesitated and looked to Forrest for guidance. She'd never seen anyone order around one of the brothers without Forest getting ruffled under the collar. She was surprised when he gave her a nod. She gave Sam the rag and moved back behind the counter. "I'll get you something for your coat," she mused.
"Thank you kindly," Sam said with a nod as she turned back to Jack, dangling the rag in front of him.
Jack beamed at her and took the rag without complaining. "Sorry about that, Sam."
"Uh-huh," she agreed, swooping down to grab her hat off the floor. "You're lucky you're pretty cause you've got the thought process of a chicken."
Howard barked out a laugh at that and stepped forward, his arms open in a greeting. "Good ta have ya back, Sammy."
She accepted the hug with a smile till he was actually on her, her face twisting when she caught his smell. "Jesus, Howie, you smell worse than the horses!"
He didn't seem bothered by that. "Like you smell any better," he told her.
"I smell a might better than you do," she argued, patting his back to get him off her. "Though none of us smell as nice as Forrest."
The silent Bondurant turned a pink color that surprised Maggie, she had never seen him blush before.
"I can take your coat," she offered, unable to help but feel a little left out.
Sam spun to face her, a sweet smile on her face. "Goodness, you're fast," she praised, pulling off her gloves before undoing the buttons of her coat. She shrugged out of it to reveal a grey waistcoat and a white button up, both spattered with what could only be blood.
"Land sakes, Sammy, what the fuck happened to you?" Howard demanded, grabbing hold of her arm to turn her towards him.
She shook his hand off. "Don' worry, none of its mine."
"Awright, but what happened?" he pressed.
She shook her head as she stepped to the bar, laying the black coat across the counter. "Jus' business. Didn' have time to change before headin' out."
Forrest grunted and started for the stairs. "Get ya somethin' ta wear," he stated.
Maggie was surprised while Sam wasn't.
"Thank you, Forrest!"
A grunt was her answer.
"What kind of business?" Jack asked from his spot on the floor, still trying to get the sticky liquid up. "You kill someone?"
Howard glared down at him. "Why do you ask questions like that?" he asked, kicking his brother's leg.
"Don' kick your brother," Sam chastised, smacking his arm. "No, Jack, I didn' kill someone. Stabbed someone, but didn' kill someone."
"Is that why you got…" he trailed off, gesturing to her shirt.
She pursed her lips, seeming to decide if she was going to tell him or not. "Well," she started, "when you stab someone in the neck you tend to get blood on you."
His eyes shot wide but he didn't ask any more questions.
"Did you get blood on this too?" Maggie asked, knowing she would have to actually wash the coat to get blood out.
"Probably," Sam answered offhandedly, looking back to her, "but don' you worry about that. That coat started out white."
Maggie couldn't help her smile.
Sam was pleased about the smile and cocked her head to the side. "I haven' introduced myself, have I?" she asked before holding her hand out. "Samantha Avery."
"Maggie Beuford," she responded as she took her hand. She recognized the name. She had heard it a few times in passing by the people she wouldn't want to be caught eavesdropping on. Samantha Avery was a gun manufacturer who supplied to anyone who would buy. Cops and gangster alike.
"Pretty name," Sam mused, squeezing her hand before letting go. "Where did you come from, Maggie?"
"Chicago," she answered before she could stop herself.
A pleased hum left her. "I love Chicago. Beautiful city."
Maggie nodded in agreement. "It is."
Sam seemed to notice her discomfort. "Glad you're here though," she told her. "I'm sure the boys thank their stars they have you."
"Sure do!" Jack spoke up, popping up from the ground. "We're awfully glad that you're here, Miss. Maggie."
"Thanks, Jack."
Forrest's footstep on the stairs halted our conversation, the four of them looking over to him. He had a bundle of clothes, his judging by the fact that there was a cardigan. "Clothes."
Sam met him at the foot of the stairs instead of making him walk across the room. "You're too kind, Forrest," she told him, reaching up to take them from him. "D'you got a minute? I want to talk to you about somethin'."
He nodded without hesitation and, with a hand on her lower back, shuffled them to his office.
Maggie couldn't help the wash of surprise that came over her. Despite having not been in the station all that long she knew that Forrest wasn't an accommodating person or an affectionate one. So his deviating from his schedule and the hand on Sam's back was completely out of character for him.
Forrest pushed open the door to his office and ushered her in first before following and closing the door.
Sam stepped in and set the clothes on the desk, her fingers already going at the buttons on her vest.
Forrest dropped into his chair and watched her undress, not as embarrassed as he probably should have been. "You in trouble?" he mumbled out.
She sighed and tossed the ruined vest to the spare chair. "When am I not, Forrest?" she asked, flashing him a smile.
He grunted in agreement. "More than usual?"
She nodded her head to the side and started on the button up. "Jus' a little," she answered. "Things didn' really go my way this time around. It wasn' too bad but I need to stay gone for a while."
"Hmm, that why yer here?" he asked, appraising her. "To be gone?"
"Not the only reason," she denied, catching the disappointment and accusation in his tone. "You know I come here for you."
He was quiet for a moment. "Haven' seen tail or hide of you in months."
Sam's jaw clenched and she pulled the spoiled shirt off, leaving her in the white camisole she used as a slip. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize for somethin'," he started, sounding more tired than angry, "you made a choice about. Don't."
She sighed and dropped her arms, watching him for a moment before moving over to sit on the side of his desk, a few inches away from him. "I don' suppose me sayin' that I missed you will make you feel any better about it."
He hummed and leaned back in his chair. "There ain't nothin' to feel better about."
She huffed out a laugh. "You don' lie, Forrest, so don' try," she advised, reaching out to grasp his closest hand, her lithe fingers playing with his thick ones. "Things have jus' been…" she trailed off, her brow furrowing as she thought. "Complicated," she said with a chuckle.
He gave her a questioning look.
"Things aren' goin' the way they're supposed to," she explained. "Nothin's been fucked up, but jus' little things, you know? Little things that have happened too many times to be a coincidence," she said, swallowing hard as she looked down at their hands.
"D'you need help?" he asked, although he was pretty sure Sam had never needed help in her natural life.
"Nah," she denied, her nail picking at one of the scabs on his knuckles. "I'm pretty sure I've handled it. That's why I haven' been comin' around. I didn' want to bring it around you and the boys."
Forrest grunted and pulled is hand away from hers. "Don't need to protect us," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cardigan.
Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "We live in two very different worlds, Forrest," she reminded him. "They have different rules, and I'll be damned if I bring those rules to your door. Jus' like you wouldn' bring yours to mine."
He watched her for a moment before grunting and shifting in his chair. He knew she was right.
"And what the hell were you doin' askin' me if I need help?" she asked, reaching out to smack his knee. "We don' mix in each other's business," she reminded him, twisting around to grab the clothes had had brought her. She popped her neck as she pulled on the shirt, her fingers wiggling to move the too long shirt sleeves up her arms. "Fell like a child," she muttered, fastening a couple of buttons before pulling on the cardigan. "You could fit two of me in this thing."
He let out a hum as he looked her over. "You always look …nice in my clothes," he said, a tentative hand reaching out to tug at the hem of the cardigan.
Sam gave him an amused smile. "You know what I'll never understand?"
He shook his head.
"How you can watch me undress without so much of a blush, but tellin' me I look good in your clothes gets you all flustered."
He shifted in his seat again, his eyes darting around the room as he struggled to think of something to say. "I don't….." he trailed off, clearing his throat.
"Well then it's a good thing that you don' have to," she said. "At least, not with me."
Forrest's eyes darted again but he didn't pull his hand away. "Hmm, good."
A small laugh left her at that and she leaned forward, her free hand braced on the arm chair as she kissed his forehead. "You're too kind to me, you know," she whispered, nuzzling him a little.
He let out a content sigh and leaned into her. "I'm not," he argued. "Hmm, you deserve better."
"What have I told you 'bout sayin' things like that around me?" she asked, trailing kisses down the side of his face. "There isn' anyone better than you."
He didn't protest but he also didn't agree. Instead he moved his hand from the hem of the sweater to press against her thigh, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of her pants. Forrest couldn't remember the last time he saw her in something other than men's clothing, his included. It never bothered him, not even when they were kids. He learned a long time ago that Sam wasn't one to follow expectations, not that he ever had the mind to hold her to any.
Sam let out a hum of her own before moving her lips over his, the action more of a tease than an actual kiss.
He grunted in disappointment and leaned closer to her, almost rising out of his chair to do so. This was also something he learned a long time ago.
Their moment of peace was cut off by a knock on the office door.
A growl of frustration ripped its way up Forrest's throat.
Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah?" she asked, loud enough for whoever it was on the other side of the door to hear.
"There's someone here to see ya, Sam," Jack's voice answered.
She sat up straight at that, confusion and concern flashing across her face.
Forrest didn't like that look. "Samantha?"
She glanced to him before climbing off the desk. "I didn' know anyone knew I was here," she mused, starting for the door.
Moving faster than usual he grabbed hold of her hand, keeping her back. "Samantha?" he asked again.
A reassuring smile swept across her face and she leaned down to kiss his knuckles. "Don' you worry, Forrest. It's jus' business."
That didn't exactly make him feel any better. Her business was almost twice as bad as his. Instead of arguing he got up from his chair and followed her out, his eyes locking on the man standing just a few feet within the front door, Howard's glare seeming to keep him from stepping in further.
"Roy?" Sam asked, walking over to him. "The hell you doin' here?" she demanded.
Roy pulled his hat off and dipped his head when she got to him, his hand digging into the pocket of his coat. "This came for you just before you left," he explained, holding out a crumpled telegraph. "I thought you should see it."
She smoothed the paper out and read it over, her lips mouthing along with the words. "Well, shit," she sighed, her posture slipping.
Roy shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want to do about it?"
"Nothin' to really do abou' it," she answered, crumpling the paper up once again. "What's dead is dead. Jus' make sure his wife and kids are taken care of and the funeral is squared away."
He nodded quickly. "The usual?"
She grunted in denial. "Whatever his wife want's, it's on me," she told him. "Whatever she wants. Alright?"
"Alright," he agreed. "What about the shipment?"
Sam shrugged. "S'long as it got there we're not in any trouble. Might send a little somethin' as an apology of inconvenience but we should be fine."
"Alright," he agreed again with a nod. "Some of the fellas have been asking me how long you're going to be gone for. Anything specific you want me to tell them?"
Sam fixed him with a look that would have made a weaker man weak. "Tell 'em to fuck off."
Roy beamed at that. "Sure, Boss."
"Good man," she praised. "Jus' out of curiosity, how'd you know I was here?"
Roy's smile dropped.
"You're not in trouble, Roy," she assured him, looking a little amused.
He nodded his head to the side. "Well, before you left you were muttering something about, uh, fucking a Bondurant," he explained, shooting the three men behind her a glance. "I took the chance of coming down here."
Sam's smile twitched till she was full blown laughing, the sound filling the station and startling Howard. "I knew there was a reason I hired you!"
He seemed sheepish at that and ducked his head again. "Thanks, Boss," he mumbled. "While I'm here is anything you need? Something I can do for you?"
"You can forget that I'm here," she answered.
It appeared that Roy didn't have to be told twice. "I've already forgot," he said, waving to the side of his head to signify the information fluttering away. "I don't even know where I am. These country roads are more confusing than I expected."
Sam nodded her head to the side. "They sure are, Roy. Make sure you get yourself home safe, alright?"
"Sure thing, Boss," he said before looking back up to the brothers, that uneasy smile on his face. "Evening."
The Bondurant's didn't respond in kind.
He ducked his head and backed towards the door. "See ya, Boss."
"See ya, Roy."
Roy retreated from the station like she had told him to fuck off, the sound of a car engine soon following him.
Sam let out a sigh and scrubbed a hand across her face. "This is gettin' ridiculous," she grumbled.
"Everythin' alright, Sam?" Jack asked, his concern for her overriding the scolding Howard had given him.
"Yes and no," she answered, shoving the crumpled note into the pocket of Forrest's cardigan. "The business is fine, I'm just tired of havin' to replace all my runners," she said, spinning on her heel to turn back to them. "That's the third one this month."
Surprise slapped him across the face. "Three?" he asked.
"All in Chicago," she sighed, flashing a smile at Maggie. "Beautiful city, darlin', but its hell on my turn over rate."
Maggie gave her an uncomfortable smile.
"That the trouble?" Forrest asked, shuffling a little closer to her.
She shook her head. "Nah, jus' an unfortunate side effect of the nature of my business," she dismissed with a shrug.
Howard scoffed at that. "What? Your fellas gettin' picked off like lame ducks?"
She didn't rise to the taunt but nodded instead. "Unfortunately. They all know that when I offer 'em the job," she said, her eyes lighting up slightly when she spotted her sandwich still sitting on the counter. "Which is why I give 'em life insurance," she stated as she walked over and grabbed one of the triangles.
Howard's face screwed up. "The hell is life insurance?"
Sam took a bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Life insurance is a chunk of money given to the employee's family at the time of their death. It's enough to cover the funeral and keep the family livin' comfortably. It's the least I could do for gettin' their loved one killed."
"Let me get his straight," he started, his confusion not disappearing, "the fellas tha' work for ya get money other than wages?" he asked.
She nodded. "But only if they die on the job," she added. "And it only goes to the family."
"Well shit," he chuckled out, looking back to Forrest. "How come we ain't got tha'?"
He didn't look displeased but he also didn't look amused. "It'd be like robbin' Peter…..to pay Paul," he pointed out. "Ain't no point to it."
"Well maybe I should go work for Sammy then," he joked, walking over to grab the other half of Sam's sandwich.
She scoffed and smacked his hand, effectively making him drop the food. "As if I'd take you on," she denied. "You'd cause me more trouble than you'd be worth, Howie, and you know it."
He almost pouted at that. "I think I'm worth quiet a lot."
"Worth a laugh," Jack barked out before he could stop himself, his eyes going wide as he looked to Howard.
Howard pointed to him in his usual way, muttering something about 'little runt' before taking off towards him.
Jack bolted and ran out of the station, Howard hot on his heels.
The station was quiet for a moment before Maggie couldn't stand it.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Sam," she said, tugging the woman's coat off the counter to get a better look at the coffee stain.
She smiled at that and made sure to swallow before speaking. "Thank you, Maggie," she said, giving the woman a genuine smile. "And thank you for the food. Can' remember the last time I actually stopped to eat."
Maggie and Forrest shared a concerned glance.
"You must be pretty busy then."
"No rest for the wicked, darlin'."
Maggie would have smiled at that if it wasn't so true.
Sam went to take another bite but stopped when she remembered something. "We never did finish our conversation, did we, Forrest?" she asked.
He wasn't really sure if she meant the actual conversation or the impromptu triste. Either way he grunted and shook his head.
"Well, come on," she said, patting the seat next to her.
Forrest grunted again and walked over, lowering himself to the barstool.
Sam grabbed the half of the sandwich that Howard had tried to take and offered it to the middle Bondurant.
He watched it for a moment before leaning forward and taking a bite from it.
A girlish giggle left Sam at that. "God, Forrest," she said, setting it back on the plate and sliding it in front of him.
Forrest gave the smallest smirk, pleased that he had got her to laugh.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to stay here for a while," she said, already knowing that it was. "A couple weeks, maybe?"
"Hmm, you don'…have to ask, you know?" he asked, glancing over at her.
"It's polite," she said with a shrug. "This isn' my home, I can' jus' barge in whenever I feel like it."
"The hell you can't," he grumbled, actually sounding a little put off. "The hell this ain' yer home."
Sam wasn't surprised by that and ducked her head to hide her smile.
"Yer welcome…..whenever ya like," he continued, shifting on his seat. "Like always."
Her smile turned a little sad as she nodded slowly. "Sometimes I jus' need a reminder," she muttered, leaning over to bump her shoulder into his. "Thank you, Forrest."
He hummed in acknowledgment and bumped her shoulder back. "S'long as you don' forget," he said, picking up the half he had bitten and took another.
"Not likely," she assured him, taking another bite and sliding off the stool. "I'm goin' to put Lightenin' in the barn, if that's alright?"
He nodded without hesitation. "Can have Howard do it," he offered.
Sam shook her head. "She's my horse, I'll take care of her."
Maggie perked up at that. "You rode a horse here?" she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.
"Sure did," she answered, her smile beaming. "D'you wanna meet her?"
Maggie hesitated.
"Go on," Forrest encouraged.
She didn't need to be told twice, moving around the counter and following Sam out of the station door.
The horse, to say the least, was a sight to see. She was an inky black color that shimmered in the sunlight, the matching black tack almost blending it. Her mane was braided up along her neck, keeping it out of the way and untangled.
"This is White Lightenin'," Sam said, patting the horse's cheek.
Maggie arched an eyebrow. "White Lightening?" she asked, awfully sure that the horse's name couldn't be that transparent.
She nodded with a chuckle. "I know, I know, but hardly anyone outside of Franklin County knows what that is," she reasoned. "Besides, Forrest is the one who gave her to me, it's only right to name her in kind."
Maggie wasn't as surprised by that. "She's beautiful," she said, reaching out a tentative hand to pet the horse's other cheek.
"She sure is," Sam agreed. "You grew up in Chicago, right?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever ridden a horse?"
Maggie shook her head. "I've been in carriages and things but I've never ridden one," she answered.
"D'you want to?"
She startled at that and looked to Sam. "Oh, I don'-" she cut off, one of her hands flying to the skirt of her dress. "I don' think I should."
Sam pursed her lips and looked the dress over. "Yeah, probably not in that," she agreed with a nod. "Tell you what, we'll get you into a pair of my pants. There's no sense in denyin' you a ride cause of wardrobe limitations."
Maggie thought to protest but she really did want to ride.
"Come on, you're a country girl now. All country girls ride horses," Sam encouraged.
"Well," she sighed, "if all the girls do it."
"That's the spirit," Sam laughed, untying White Lightening's rein from the porch rail and walking down. "I think you're goin' to be jus' fine here, Maggie. Jus' fine indeed."
Maggie smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, Sam."
She walked backwards for a spell before turning forward and heading off towards the barn just behind the station.
I've had this story for a while and finally decided to see if anyone wants to read it. So let me know if you're interested and I'll keep working on it :)
-Alya Kihaku