Meryl was thoroughly dehydrated, but had not yet started chasing phantom desserts.

After sorting out things in Felnarl, she had found another pair of Thomas (Milly had apologized to the bartender, nearly in tears, for the death of his Thomas) and the two set out for Schezar's town. Par for the course where their luck was concerned, they ran afoul of a small storm and they were forced to dig in and find what shelter they could, squashed together between the protective, if smelly, bulk of the two Thomas.

The storm lasted three days and Meryl realized they were going to run out of water for both Milly and herself, much less for the Thomas, before they could reach their destination. She started rationing it, but knew that the Thomas simply needed more just to function, and without them she and Milly didn't have a chance.

By the time they reached the town, Milly was hallucinating. Twice, Meryl had to steer the younger woman back on course after she had spotted a stack of her favorite pudding cups in the distance.

Now they trudged through the deserted town on foot, having left the exhausted animals to rest in the shade of the first building they had reached.

"No one said this was a ghost town," Meryl whispered, her lips so dry that they pulled apart and cracked when she spoke. She winced and licked away trace amounts of blood, trying to wet her chapped lips.

"Ma'am!" shouted Milly suddenly, making Meryl start in surprise. "Look!"

"There's no pudding, Milly," Meryl said gently, rubbing her aching forehead.

"No—Ma'am, look!"

Meryl was completely taken aback as Milly grabbed her by the chin and forced her face to the left. Then she gasped in surprise.

"Don't get your hopes up."

Both Meryl and Milly stopped mid-stride, racing toward the well Milly had spotted.

The words had come from a man emerging from the otherwise deserted general store. He wore a large pack on his back and was locking the doors behind him.

"The well's dried up a long time ago," said a boy, no doubt the man's son, who had been hidden behind the massive backpack. "That's why we're leaving." He didn't seem too upset about it.

"Has everyone left?" Meryl asked the man. "What happened here?"

"Just the drought," he said, shrugging, settling the pack more comfortably over his shoulders. "Without water there's not much hope for anyone, here."

Speaking of water...

"Is there any chance you have water we could buy from you?" Meryl asked. "My partner and I—" She stopped abruptly. Milly was gone. Meryl looked around desperately and saw that the younger woman had wandered off again, though she relaxed when she saw Milly was only a few blocks away. Meryl cupped her hands around her mouth and called, "Milly!"

"Pudding!" came Milly's faint reply. Meryl turned back to the man with a sigh, shaking her head.

"You see my troubles," she said.

"Sorry, but we've got none to spare," the man said, sounding honestly apologetic. Then he hitched a thumb over his shoulder and grimaced. "Try old Tight-Wad up there, though," he advised them. "He seems to have a soft spot for pretty young girls. Come on," he added to his son, and they walked off toward the north end of town.

Meryl looked in the direction the man had indicated and saw a great mansion in the distance, almost hidden behind the general store from this angle. The house was in excellent repair; it was a good bet the owner could afford enough water to spare them some—though perhaps at a price.

"Milly," Meryl called again, starting to walk back toward the younger woman, following her staggering footsteps around the corner. "There's a house up there, we might try to see if they can help us."

"But... the pudding!" Milly was pointing at nothing in particular, somewhere between Meryl and the abandoned saloon at the end of the street.

"Water, Milly," Meryl told her, pulling at her elbow. "Real water." Milly hesitated.

"Water's good too," Milly allowed, and she let Meryl lead her to the steps of the mansion. They climbed up into the welcome shade of the porch and caught their breath for a moment.

Meryl knocked on the door, her arm feeling at least twice as heavy as she remembered it ought. At almost the same moment her knuckles touched wood, the door opened and hands presented her with two full glasses of sparkling, clear water.

Before Meryl could ascertain if this wasn't just another mirage, Milly leapt forward with a manic shout of glee, grabbing one glass and throwing it back almost entirely in one massive gulp. Meryl then took the other nearly as quickly, saying "Oh, thank you. Good god, thank you," before having any herself. As she drank, she glanced up and immediately choked, spitting a mouthful of water all over the front of a long red jacket.

"Hello!" said the man, brightly, seemingly unperturbed by the water Meryl had just sprayed across his chest.

"Hello Mr. Vash!" said Milly, just as brightly. Meryl was coughing too hard to correct her, some of the water stuck in her throat, and the man in red reached out to thump her on the back surprisingly forcefully with his left hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked, still grinning down at her.

"Um," she coughed once more. "Yeah. Yes, fine, thanks."

"Finish that water," he told her, and Meryl remembered she was still holding the glass. She drank, feeling oddly like the man was sizing up her health with his eyes, his gaze seemingly more considerate than she would have expected. Then, as if he knew she was suddenly harboring some kinder thoughts about his character, he said, cheerfully, "You look like death on toast."

Meryl scowled at him.

"Hello hello, who are these fine young ladies?"

This voice came from somewhere behind the tall blonde man and he stepped to one side, revealing a small mustachioed man. He smiled affably at them and then looked up at the man in red.

"Are these friends of yours?"

"Friends of—what?" Meryl demanded, almost choking again.

"Why don't you come in, ladies," the short man said, gesturing them inside the house. "It's far too hot outside to linger for proper introductions."

Milly thanked the man and followed, but Meryl hesitated. She glanced at the man in the red duster and wasn't sure if she should trust anyone who trusted him. But the cool air inside the mansion was incredibly enticing, and she finally let herself be ushered inside. The man in red put a hand at the small of her back (a strangely intimate gesture, she felt) and led her into the main sitting room, closing the heavy door behind her.

As she sat on the couch next to Milly, Meryl watched the shorter man put an old, warped record on the Victrola in one corner. It played a strangely familiar tune, though she couldn't quite remember the words. On Meryl's left, the man in red seemed like he was having the same feeling. He noticed her watching him and she looked away, glancing up as the other man sat down facing her.

"My name is Cliff Schezar," he said, his manner oddly formal.

"Ah, excellent," said Meryl, pleased. This was the man who had put out the advertisement. "My name is Meryl Stryfe, and this is my partner—"

"Milly Thompson!"

"We're from the Bernadelli Insurance Company," Meryl continued. "We actually came to this town looking for you, sir." Schezar looked bemused.

"Nothing bad, I hope," he said. "My business selling water is completely legal and—"

"No, no," Meryl assured him. "We just saw your advertisement in Felnarl—"

"For Vash the Stampede," Milly added. Meryl glanced sideways, slightly annoyed at the interruption but unwilling to comment and risk Milly's heart-breaking kicked-puppy face.

"Yes, and we were hoping to find him here," Meryl continued. "Our current assignment is to monitor his actions, make sure he doesn't cause too much damage, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Schezar said, nodding.

Meryl waited.

Schezar said nothing further.

"Well," said Meryl, hesitantly. "Is he here?"

The man laughed, saying, "He's sitting there next to you!"

Meryl actually looked, reflexively, though she knew full well what she was going to see.

The man in red was striking what he clearly thought was an impressive pose; Meryl was thoroughly not impressed.

"Mr. Schezar, may I have a word with you?" Meryl asked, standing suddenly. "In private?" She had spotted a small area in the corner of the room with a conveniently placed curtain.

"Of course," said the man, his eyebrows raised.

Meryl had already crossed the room and she drew back the curtain—and gave a start. There was a young woman standing behind it, her startled eyes an odd lilac color that matched the silk gown she wore. She looked as surprised as Meryl felt.

"Uh," Meryl said blankly, still holding the curtain open, for lack of a different action.

"Ah, yes," said Schezar. "This is Miss Marianne Aura Cayzen. It's for her safety that I've hired Vash, here."

At the use of the name "Vash," Meryl remembered her indignation again and stepped back, gesturing the woman out into the main room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man in red stand suddenly, striking another pose. She rolled her eyes.

"Miss," said Meryl. "Please excuse us for a moment."

The woman nodded, smiling, and went to sit by Milly, who introduced herself excitedly. Meryl held the curtain until Schezar followed her, letting it drop behind him.

Who the hell keeps a girl behind a curtain?

"You must forgive me, I asked her to stay hidden when you came," Schezar said. "Until we could be sure you weren't a danger to us."

"Yes, whatever," Meryl said, waving his words aside. "That man is not Vash the Stampede!" she hissed, pointing behind her, ready to fly into a heated tirade about the man's questionable character and generally idiotic nature.

"Of course not," said Schezar.

"Of course—what?" Meryl stopped abruptly, thrown off her stride.

"Think about it for a minute," said Schezar, stepping closer. "I put out an advertisement wanting to hire Vash the Stampede. Anybody could show up and say he was the Humanoid Typhoon, and so long as the townsfolk and riff-raff believed it, that was all that mattered."

Meryl realized moments like this were what made her job hell... This man was purposefully touting that idiot as Vash the Stampede. No wonder there were so goddamn many descriptions! She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tightly for a moment, one hand trying to rub out all the frustration held in the muscles of her forehead.

"And you chose that idiot to be Vash the Stampede?" she demanded, throwing up her hands.

Schezar just shrugged. "He was the first to answer. He showed up with a gun; that's good enough for me." He pulled open the curtain and went to sit next to the woman, Marianne, on the couch.

There was a black cat sitting on the woman's lap, and she petted the creature and smiled to herself. It rolled onto its back and purred loudly as the woman rubbed its soft belly.

"Nyao..."

Meryl glanced at Milly suspiciously, but the younger woman seemed to be conveniently intent on the conversation between Marianne and... and... the idiot.

She didn't know what else to call him. There was no way in hell she was going to call him Vash. He seemed to be hamming up the part, however.

"Now that I am here, you have nothing to fear!" he proclaimed, flexing both skinny arms (with no noticeable effect). "I am the merciless slayer of all that is good! Doer of the evil, evil deeds a man with $$60 billion on his head does!"

Meryl felt her eye twitch.

"The truth is, I needed a body guard," Schezar said, once the man in red had stopped his posturing and returned to his seat, watching Marianne with an almost sickening look of adoration on his face. Meryl looked to the other man as he spoke. "Someone tried to break in five days ago. I wouldn't worry about it if it were only my life at stake, but with Marianne here... Well." He shrugged.

"Well, with Mr. Vash here, everyone should feel safe!" said Milly, smiling.

"Of course!" said the man in red. "I don't let anyone in my sights get away, and my bullets never miss their mark." He made a gun with his thumb and forefinger, closing one eye to sight down along the imaginary barrel, apparently aiming at Marianne sitting opposite him. "Especially if it's the heart of a beautiful lady." He smiled winningly at her.

Then his glance flicked sideways to Meryl and she jumped as he said, "Bang!" and showed the imaginary recoil as he shot for Marianne's heart.

The woman laughed demurely, but Meryl's own heart was racing.

What the hell?

He had been aiming for Marianne, but those sparkling green eyes had been staring straight into hers. Meryl was trying to make sense of it, but her attention was drawn elsewhere as she noticed that Marianne's gaze was for some reason somewhere in the area of Meryl's knees. Glancing down, Meryl saw the edge of her cloak had curled out slightly, revealing one side of a strip of her custom-design derringer holsters. She shifted her weight slightly and the fabric rolled forward again. Marianne's eyes darted up to meet hers and then looked quickly away.

Meryl frowned. Suddenly, something seemed very off about this woman.

She hadn't been paying attention to the continued conversation and was surprised to hear her name.

"Of course you and Ms. Stryfe are welcome to stay as long as you like," Schezar was saying to Milly.

"Thank you," said Milly. "Our Thomas are exhausted and terribly thirsty, they need a few days to rest."

"Of course," he said again. "Make yourselves at home."

The man in red had gone back to posturing at Marianne. Meryl stood there for a moment, trying to process the situation in its entirety. She and Milly were stuck there until their Thomas recuperated, with that idiot now claiming to be Vash the Stampede, a conniving and manipulative businessman, and a woman that for some reason Meryl didn't trust at all.

Wonderful.