The klaxon was still wailing, loud in Meryl's ears, but there seemed to be something else pressing in on her eardrums too; a weird humming sound, reverberating through the air as though the plant-bulb couldn't hold in the power and it was leaking out into the main building. The floor under her feet was vibrating like a steamer with uncalibrated engines, and that struck a chord from ages ago—she needed to find Vash fast.
Every footstep along the metal corridor still rang out like the blow of hammer on anvil, and Meryl paused at each door she found. Everything was locked, and she growled in frustration, looking through the small porthole windows into each room, hoping to find Vash somewhere. To find him somewhere, alive.
The air was buzzing in her ears now and, retracing her steps after yet another dead-end, the noise grew suddenly louder, overpowering even the sound of the klaxon until it felt like her whole skull was vibrating from the intensity. There was one final door at the other end of the hall and she slid to a halt before it, out of breath and squinting at the bright light spilling out from the porthole window. Meryl cupped her hands around her eyes and peered in.
She thought her heart might have just stopped dead in her chest. She was looking in at a circular room, with a tangled network of criss-crossing metal pipes skirting the walls. The room was lit only by columns of light spilling out from large holes in the ceiling—Meryl realized that this place must be directly below the plant-bulb—and Vash was standing there on a platform at the center, his face and palms turned upward.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Meryl almost screamed, spinning in an instant to find the source of the voice. The man standing behind her was wearing a blue-striped hat, identifying him as a senior engineer, and Meryl recognized him as the man Elizabeth had sent into the innards of the plant just before everyone else had evacuated.
"There's a man in there," Meryl began to explain. Her heart was beating double-time now from the shock he'd given her, and she had to scream just to be heard over the myriad sounds of the dying plant. "You have to help me—"
"We have to get out of here!" said the man, deaf to Meryl's words. His eyes were wide in alarm, nearly panic, and his broad hand wrapped fully around Meryl's bicep as he started dragging her away.
"No—wait!" Meryl shouted, trying to free herself from his grasp. "There's someone still in there!" she said, pointing toward the door behind them as the man pulled her relentlessly on in the opposite direction.
"That's impossible," he said, flatly. "No one could survive in there!"
"Goddamn it, I'm telling you—" Meryl managed to wrench her arm out of his grip, but she only made it three steps before the man wrapped an arm around her waist and actually hauled her up over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, running flat-out for the exit.
"Girl, we have got to get out of here!"
"No, please!" Meryl begged, pushing futilely at the man's shoulders. "I can't leave him—we can't just leave him here to die!"
"If there's really anyone in there, he's already dead," said the man. He ran through a set of corridors Meryl hadn't found in her own search and just a few minutes later carried her through a door at the end of the next hall, emerging into bright sunlight.
With her view facing backwards, hanging over the man's shoulder, Meryl could see they had exited the plant on the opposite end of the building than she and Milly had entered. The whole city of Inepril was on the other side of the plant. The steamer—the only safe place to be, now—was on the other side of the plant.
Meryl tried to turn to see where the man carrying her was running to, but no matter the contortion she couldn't manage it.
Then suddenly the sounds of the plant behind them had changed, and Meryl turned back to look. There were huge sparks flashing across the glass face of the plant-bulb like jagged tongues of blue lightning, crackling as loudly as gunfire. But they were dying out, become smaller and less frequent, until there was one final, blinding flash of electric blue that encompassed the whole of the bulb and left its image burned momentarily into Meryl's eyes.
She hammered on the man's back to catch his attention, shouting for him to stop. A moment later the klaxon had stopped its wailing and the man finally turned back to the plant. Still hoisted over his shoulder, Meryl was facing the opposite direction again and was alarmed to realize they had been almost at a cliff's edge, leaving them nowhere to go if the plant had exploded.
The man set Meryl back down on her feet and she spun to stare at the plant. The constant buzzing hum that had filled the halls and echoed out of the building now quieted slowly into nothing, and everything was still.
After a seemingly endless moment of silence, while Meryl hardly dared to breathe, a huge cheer burst out from the other side of the plant. She and the man beside her shared a bewildered glance, and then both started sprinting towards the noise.
Minutes later they rounded the corner and joined a growing crowd around the plant. A steady stream of people seemed to be gleefully returning to their homes or searching out family they had been separated from during all the panic.
And a familiar figure was standing at the main entrance to the plant.
Meryl's mouth fell open slightly in wonder.
"Vash," she whispered.
But how...?
She began running toward him, trying to make her way through the huge swarm of people running all different directions. The crowd thinned once and with a stab of fear Meryl caught sight of Elizabeth walking purposefully toward Vash, and was even more alarmed to see that Vash was moving to meet her.
Meryl started pushing her way through the throng, sometimes actually knocking people aside (admittedly, they were smallish people) in her hurry. She knew Vash would never kill Elizabeth, would-be assassin or not, but Meryl was still worried about what he would do.
She finally emerged from the thick of the crowd, gasping for breath, and then stopped dead in her tracks.
He was embracing her. Vash's arms were wrapped around Elizabeth's shoulders, holding her close to his chest.
"What...?" The word was almost silent on Meryl's lips, and she felt the muscles of her forehead seizing up as her brows came together in utter confusion. The ache in her forehead was the same as always, more painful perhaps than she remembered, but it wasn't in anger this time. She wasn't sure what it was, but her insides felt strangely hollow and pained, like she'd been struck unexpectedly in the chest.
She took a step backward, retreating from the scene she couldn't understand, and was knocked nearly off her feet by someone running past in the crowd behind her. And yet Meryl still stared at the two of them, watching Elizabeth's shoulders shaking now as she collapsed to the ground—weeping?—and Vash knelt to follow her, still holding her gently in his arms.
Then Meryl found herself unexpectedly on the ground, looking up at the sky, with the wind knocked out of her. A man wearing a desperately apologetic expression appeared in her vision and bent to help her back up to her feet.
"Sorry!" said the man, trying to brush dirt of Meryl's shoulders. "Are you alright? Are you hurt? I'm so sorry..."
"Oh, no; I'm alright," she told him, a little dazedly. "I just wasn't paying attention, I'd gotten—" Meryl glanced over her shoulder but more people had gathered at the plant and were blocking Vash and Elizabeth from her view. "Distracted," she finished. "Sorry."
After assuring the man again that she wasn't hurt, Meryl stood facing the plant—and Vash, and Elizabeth, somewhere in the crowd—but she didn't know what to do. It didn't seem that Vash was in danger anymore, and while she couldn't explain Elizabeth's sudden change in behavior (or why it bothered her so much), Meryl knew it didn't really concern her anymore.
For lack of a better idea, Meryl returned to the room she and Milly were sharing at the inn. The younger woman wasn't there, but that made sense; if Meryl had told Milly to get the townsfolk to safety, then by god that's what Milly would do. She was likely still in the process of getting people organized, though now that the danger had passed she would probably be helping return them to their homes.
Meryl's eyes were drawn inescapably to the typewriter sitting on the small table in the corner of the room, and she groaned as her shoulders slumped in a gesture of utter defeat. This was going to be another difficult report—the third, in as many days! She sat, stared down at the keys, and tried to start composing the thing in her head.
But she couldn't focus. She kept seeing Elizabeth's face, and the wild fury that had burned in her eyes. And then Vash, embracing her. The whole thing was confusing as hell and Meryl couldn't concentrate more than a few short lines at a time, and she found herself making slow progress.
It was barely past noon, but Meryl needed a break and she managed to convince herself that it wasn't too early for a drink. Just a small one. She locked the door behind her and walked down the hall toward the stairs. Vash's room was on the other side of the stairway and for a moment Meryl paused at the landing. Might he be back here already?
But someone else was behind her now, waiting to follow her down the stairs, and Meryl took the steps two at a time until she reached the saloon floor.
It was more crowded than she expected, but then the town had just escaped potential disaster (again), so why wouldn't people be celebrating already? Meryl took a seat and ordered a small glass of whiskey—only two fingers—when the old woman made her way to Meryl's end of the bar.
She sat alone and drank slowly, watching the crowd behind her in the mirror against the wall. Each time the door opened, Meryl hoped it might be Vash. But he never came, and there was only so long she could draw out two fingers of whiskey. Meryl dropped a few double-dollars on the bar and left. Her seat was taken almost immediately as she made her way up the stairs.
At the fourth-floor landing Meryl found herself alone and, after a moment's hesitation, she turned left instead of right and made her way to Vash's door. For some reason she didn't want to knock; she leaned close and pressed her ear to the door, holding her breath and listening hard for any sound. She didn't hear anything.
Another door opening behind her made her jump and Meryl hurried back to her own room. Still a little flustered at being caught eavesdropping (whether or not she had actually heard anything), Meryl sat at the table again and read over the few lines she had written. She faced down the typewriter with a sigh, wishing she'd thought to bring another drink up with her. A larger one.
Reluctantly, Meryl finally buckled down and got to work, giving some brief exposition before describing the near-cataclysmic events at the plant. Spitefully, she pointed all fingers at Elizabeth and strongly advised Bernadelli to avoid any other incidents involving the Marius Bresken Kantacle Technical Industrial Union. She sure as hell wouldn't take that assignment.
Meryl reached absent-mindedly for her drink, but her fingers closed on empty air and she remembered with a frown that she hadn't actually brought one upstairs. She pressed her lips tightly together, annoyed, and resumed her typing.
At the sound of the door opening, Meryl turned to see Milly rush in, the worried expression she wore turning immediately to relief as she caught sight of Meryl.
"There you are," said the younger woman. "I was looking everywhere."
"Why?" asked Meryl, suddenly worried as well. Had something happened? She hadn't heard any more sirens or explosions... "What's wrong?"
"Oh—well, nothing, now," said Milly. "I just thought... I thought you might come help me, once Mr. Vash was safe." She wore a pout that was dangerously close to a kicked-puppy expression, and Meryl turned away for a moment in case it escalated. "When you didn't come, I got worried."
"Sorry," Meryl said absently. "I was going to keep an eye on Vash."
"Then why didn't you?" asked Milly, sounding puzzled as she undid the fastenings on her cloak. All Meryl could think of was the strange feeling in her chest when she saw Vash and Elizabeth together outside the plant.
"I don't know," Meryl murmured, honestly. "Where are they now?" She realized after a moment that she hadn't said explicitly who they were, but Milly seemed to know what she meant.
"As for Mr. Vash, I don't know," said Milly. Meryl spun in her seat as her insides twisted up in anxiety—what?—but Milly was shaking her head, saying, "But Elizabeth is already gone. She commissioned a shuttle to herself and left as soon as she'd fixed the plant—for good, this time."
Meryl breathed a small sigh of relief and reached for the drink, scowling when she realized again there was nothing there. Milly looked at her oddly, and went on, "I don't know why she didn't just wait for the steamer; it's leaving in the morning."
Milly shrugged, turning to hang her cloak on the hook on the back of the door, but Meryl knew why. Whatever had happened in the plant, and whatever had happened between Elizabeth and Vash; that's what the woman was running from. Whatever it was, Meryl remembered the look on Elizabeth's face when she returned to the control room alone... She doubted the other woman would ever be able to run far enough to escape it.
"Have you finished the report, Ma'am?" Milly asked, returning to look down over Meryl's shoulder.
"Nearly," said Meryl, slightly embarrassed that she had so little to show for the amount of time she had been back at the inn.
"Well, I have a surprise for you, when you're done," Milly told her, smiling. "So hurry up!"
Meryl frowned. A surprise? Not another cat, surely... But Milly said nothing more and settled cross-legged on the bed, drawing a book from her suitcase on the floor. Meryl recognized it as the younger woman's diary and turned away again to give her as much privacy as their cramped room could offer.
Another hour's work had the report finished, and over a final re-reading Meryl wondered if the people back at Bernadelli's home office even believed her anymore. All the situations she and Milly found themselves in were just so absurd. A manic sort of giggle escaped Meryl as she thought about the sheer weight of everything that had happened in the last three days.
"Are you alright, Ma'am?" asked Milly, glancing up at Meryl curiously.
"Yeah," said Meryl, sighing. She rubbed a hand over her face and sat back in the chair. "It's just ridiculous. How did we get ourselves into this?"
Milly considered this, thoughtfully. Then she shrugged and said, cheerfully, "Just lucky, I guess." This brought a genuine smile to Meryl's face, and she laughed.
"I guess."
"Are you done now, Ma'am?" Milly asked.
Meryl just nodded, somewhat apprehensively, wondering what the other woman had planned. In the past, a "surprise" meant anything from Kuroneko to a terrible hair-bleaching incident that they had both agreed never to speak of again.
"Good!" exclaimed Milly, letting the diary fall closed and setting it aside. "I have a present for you," she said, reaching for her suitcase again. Milly opened it and pulled out two paper-wrapped parcels, which Meryl recognized as those the younger woman had bought the night before at the market. Milly opened the smaller one and laid the contents out on the bed.
Meryl looked down in open-mouthed horror and backed away several paces.
"No!"
But her protestations were in vain. Ten minutes later, Milly was practically pushing her down the stairs to the saloon, and Meryl felt ridiculous. The skirt—well, it hardly had enough material to merit any real designation of clothing. The blouse that matched it was low-cut and well-fitted, and Meryl felt so unlike herself that she might as well have been wearing a costume.
Meryl tugged helplessly on the hem of the skirt, willing it to somehow grow out another few iches. To her left, Milly looked comfortable and completely at ease in the flowing sundress she had bought for herself. Meryl eyed the extra yarz of fabric resentfully.
"Come on, Ma'am," Milly said, taking her hand. "Just relax! Look, those nice men from the plant are at the bar, let's say 'hi!' "
Meryl turned to look and she recognized the taller man as the engineer who had hauled her out of the plant against her will. She scowled automatically, but he had eyes only for Milly. Meryl didn't know the second man, but he was smiling at her amiably enough and she smiled tentatively back.
By the time Milly had led Meryl to the bar, each man had a drink in hand to offer them.
"Ladies," said the man Meryl had recognized. He handed his drink to Milly, and Meryl reached for the glass proffered by the other.
"I'm Sean," he said, smiling at her. He didn't relinquish the drink, though, and Meryl looked at him bemusedly. "And you are?" he prompted.
"Meryl," she said, laughing as Sean finally let go of the glass.
"Cheers, Meryl," said Sean, raising the bottle he held. Meryl tapped her glass against it, and drank.
Over the first few drinks, Meryl learned that Milly's new friend was called Jim, and that Jim and Sean had known each other since childhood. Over the next few drinks, Milly explained that she and "Ma'am" worked for an insurance company, paid to keep a watchful eye on Vash the Stampede. As usual, Meryl was glad enough to let Milly do most of the talking. She just nodded on cue and sipped each whiskey as it came, and only really spoke to answer the more specific questions Sean occasionally posed her.
Meryl wasn't sure why she had let Milly talk her into this; she wasn't all that engrossed in the group conversation, or even in the man trying to engage her in a more personal one. Mostly she was drinking and only half-listening to Sean talk.
He was just telling Meryl how he had come to be a plant engineer when a flash of scarlet caught her eye and she turned quickly to see Vash making his way through the crowd toward the stairs. Meryl stood and followed him, leaving Sean in the middle of a sentence without a word of explanation. After a few seconds, she caught the elbow of Vash's jacket and pulled him around.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, scowling. Meryl was finally starting to feel the real effects of the alcohol; that warmth that kept her comfortable despite wearing so little in the way of clothing, the mellow buzz that kept her from being too furious at Vash for his unexplained disappearance. She didn't even have the urge to hit him (yet, anyway).
For an instant, Vash looked down at her in bewilderment, as though he'd never seen her before. Then recognition dawned in his eyes and his jaw dropped as he stared openly. Meryl hadn't expected this reaction and she stepped back defensively, confused.
"What!" she said, feeling incredibly self-conscious again as Vash's eyes traveled the length of her body, top to bottom, without even bothering to try hiding it.
Okay, now she wanted to hit him. Meryl was already making a fist when someone put a hand on her elbow, startling her into forgetting her anger. She glanced sideways to see Sean regarding Vash interestedly.
"This guy bothering you?" he asked her, and though he was smiling good-naturedly enough, Meryl thought she saw something off in his expression as he looked at Vash. "Trying to steal you away from me?" He laughed, and that was off, too.
"What?" asked Meryl, flustered at this turn of events. "No, he's just—"
"Good," said Sean, smiling again, " 'Cause there's another whiskey back at the bar with your name on it." He began steering Meryl toward the bar with a hand at the small of her back. "Better luck next time, pal," he told Vash, with that same strangely false, good-natured smile. Meryl glanced over her shoulder as Sean led her away and she was surprised to see Vash frowning as he watched them go.
Then she was back at the bar with Milly and Jim, and Sean was pressing yet another glass into her hand. She looked back for Vash one last time, but he had vanished into the crowd.
What the hell just happened?
Meryl frowned into her glass, but drank it anyway.
After that, everything started to blur together. Sean kept buying her drinks and she kept drinking them, steadily losing track of time and hardly paying attention to what she did or said until she was startled out of her growing stupor by a nearby cry of, "Whew!"
Meryl turned where she sat and was alarmed to see a row of upturned shot-glasses in front of Milly, and another glass in her hand.
Before Meryl could stop her, Milly threw back the shot and slammed the glass down on the bar, letting out her breath in another "Whew!"
"One more?" Jim asked, grinning.
"Um," said Meryl, frowning worriedly. She felt that Milly had probably already had too much. Blinking, struggling to focus on Milly's face, Meryl was pretty sure she'd had too much. When had that happened? "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" she asked Milly, hesitantly.
"I can handle it!" Milly exclaimed, suddenly, banging a fist so hard on the bar that it made the shot-glasses jump. "I am unique! For I have a different stomach for cake and ice cream!"
Then she dissolved into giggles and leaned heavily on Jim's shoulder, her unexpected weight nearly tipping him over.
"Yeah, I think she's had enough, boys," Meryl said, now convinced. She stood, catching her balance on Sean's shoulder—definitely too much—and tugged at Milly's elbow. "I'm going to get her upstairs into bed before she passes out." For a moment Jim looked disappointed, but he gave them a charming smile the next.
"Perhaps another night," he said, catching Milly's hand as she stood and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.
It took every ounce of effort Meryl could summon up to keep from rolling her eyes. Milly giggled even harder.
"Alright, come on," Meryl said, reclaiming Milly's hand and drawing her away from the bar.
As she turned, Sean caught her free hand and kissed her knuckles as well. "Perhaps another night," he echoed, smiling. Meryl felt herself blushing furiously and turned quickly away.
Meryl led Milly through the crowd, threading her way between tables and hearing the other woman still giggling behind her. Out of habit she scanned the crowd for a broom-head of bristly blonde hair, but she couldn't find Vash anywhere. Meryl just wanted to get Milly to bed as quickly as possible, so she reluctantly decided Vash could take care of himself for a night.
She suddenly remembered the dream from a few nights before, helping Vash across the room to the stairs just like she was doing now, for Milly. And the dream had gone so horribly awry. Meryl swallowed hard and suddenly it seemed like she could feel his weight on her again, feel her lips tingling where Vash's mouth had pressed so fiercely against hers.
"Ma'am?"
Milly was clearly wondering why they had stopped, and her voice was a welcome reminder of reality. Meryl started forward again, trying to forget the way Vash had looked at her...
The stairs made Meryl dizzy and she was glad she had stopped drinking when she did. She managed to get them both into their room and let Milly have the first chance at getting cleaned up. Meryl collapsed onto the bed on her back and had only gone so far as removing one shoe when she heard a small commotion from the bathroom. Then:
"Oh—muffins!" Milly hissed.
Concerned (that had been pretty harsh language, coming from Milly), Meryl knocked on the door.
"Milly?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh," came Milly's voice, in a sigh. She opened the door a moment later. "Yes, Ma'am," she said, looking despondent. "I just... dropped my toothbrush in the toilet." Meryl did her best not to crack a smile and just patted the younger woman on the shoulder.
"I'll go get another one," she told Milly. There were several extra toothbrushes in their travel gear (they went through a lot of them; Meryl almost always forgot to pack hers when they left one town for the next), but that was all down in the Thomas saddlebags. Meryl kicked herself for not bringing them up, sighed, and pulled her other shoe back on.
She met few people on her way downstairs (though all of them seemed to be stumbling as much as she was), and then made it to the stables at the back of the building without seeing anyone at all. There she found both Thomas asleep in their stall, thank god. Meryl didn't really want to deal with them while being drunk enough to need to occasionally steady herself on something.
The tack and saddlebags were hung on pegs along the back wall of the stall and, of course, one of the Thomas was lying asleep directly in front of it.
Damn it.
Meryl tip-toed as near to the animal as possible, until she could feel the heat radiating from its back on her bare shins. She reached forward and slipped her fingers under the clasp of the saddlebags, searching carefully for a spare toothbrush. It only took a minute or so, and she was relieved to finally find what she was looking for. Her hand closed around the toothbrush's narrow handle and she was pulling it free of the bag again when she heard loud voices of people entering the stables. Meryl froze, praying they wouldn't wake the Thomas.
The animal grunted, letting out a snort of foul-smelling breath, and then rolled over toward her. She yanked her hand out of the bag and danced backward out of the way. She tripped and fell hard on her ass, but she managed to bite back a surprised grunt and the Thomas didn't wake.
Meryl sighed in relief. She was halfway to her feet, but then she heard the conversation the men were having, and she recognized some of the voices.
"What are you two doing out here?" asked one, unfamiliar. "What about those girls you were drinking with? Looked like you were on your way to getting laid tonight."
"Nah," said another. "The tall one's a light-weight and the short one's over-protective." Meryl froze, still half-crouched, as she recognized Jim's deep baritone.
"Shit, that blows," said the first man.
"No kidding," replied Jim. "I had her all liquored up and ready to go, too."
Meryl scowled; she was pretty sure of the man's intentions already, but to hear him speak so crassly about it made her glad she'd acted when she did. It wasn't as though Milly needed looking after, really, but Meryl was over-protective. The girl was technically her responsibility. And at that point Milly was in no fit state to make smart decisions.
"And you still couldn't score with second place?" the stranger went on, and for a moment Meryl was confused.
Apparently so was the man he addressed, because a third voice asked, "What do you mean?" It was Sean.
"Well, the little one wasn't exactly the more fuckable of the pair."
There was some laughter, and Meryl's teeth ground together. She knew it, too, but still... Hearing it so bluntly and matter-of-factly was hardly a pleasant experience.
But then she was surprised by the other man's response.
"Are you kidding me?" said Sean, laughing. "Did you see the stems on that girl? Any man who wouldn't want those wrapped around him has gotta be out of his goddamn mind."
Suddenly Meryl felt flushed. An image flashed through her mind now, her legs locked tightly around Sean's waist as she lay under him, gasping. Her face went hot.
Actually, she went hot all over...
It had been a hell of a long time since she'd slept with a man, and Meryl felt her heart racing at just the thought. Sean had been very good-looking... The alcohol wasn't exactly helping her mind stay clear, either.
Meryl swallowed hard, breathing shallowly as the other men laughed. She took a step backward and nearly stumbled over one of the claw-like hooves of the sleeping Thomas. It woke with a shriek, and immediately latched onto her elbow.
"Goddamn it," she hissed, pulling her arm out of its beak-like mouth before its teeth could break her skin, and stepped as far back into the shadows as she could. The men had stopped talking abruptly at the noise and Meryl heard footsteps coming toward the end of the stables.
"Who's there?" demanded the stranger's voice.
Meryl said nothing, her heart racing. The animal next to her snuffled and stood, its head rising above the walls of the stall. If they came to investigate the noise, they would certainly find her. She silently prayed they would just leave—but had no such luck. All three men appeared at the mouth of the stall and she straightened.
"Hey," said Meryl, awkwardly, feeling her face go hot. She waved vaguely over her shoulder and held up the toothbrush she still clutched tightly in one hand. "Sorry to eavesdrop, I was just getting something from our Thomas..."
Both Jim and the man Meryl didn't know were smirking sideways at Sean, who stood frozen in open-mouthed surprise as he realized it was she who had overheard him.
"We'll, uh... We'll meet you later, alright?" Jim said finally, hooking a thumb over his shoulder as he began to walk away backwards.
"No rush," muttered the other man, grinning as he turned the corner.
Meryl found herself alone with Sean, standing in an increasingly awkward silence. Sean just rubbed the back of his neck and gave Meryl a lop-sided smile.
"So..." he said. "I guess you heard all that?"
"Yeah," said Meryl, certain her face was bright red in embarrassment.
"It's true, though, you know," said Sean abruptly, casually taking a step nearer. Meryl took an automatic step backwards.
"Mm," she said, noncommittally. Suddenly the situation felt wrong. He was advancing on her, albeit fairly slowly, but he was between Meryl and the mouth of the stall and she was going to run out of room to retreat in another few steps.
"You're a damn fine-looking woman, Meryl."
"Thanks," said Meryl, and though she tried to keep her voice light it came out flat and she knew she couldn't quite hide a frown.
"Hey, it's okay," Sean told her, smiling. "Don't worry." He reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her tight against him and kissing her mouth. The toothbrush fell from her fingers as for a split-second Meryl actually kissed him back, her alcohol-ridden brain thinking that this might not be such a bad idea after all.
But then his hand was on her thigh, sliding up under her skirt, and she grabbed his wrist and pushed a hand hard against his chest.
"Whoa, hold on," she said, breathless from the kiss and more than a little dizzy from all the drink. "This isn't really what I'm interested in, right now."
"Sure it is," said Sean, laughing. "We were getting on well enough at the bar, and," he raised his eyebrows knowingly, "that kiss didn't exactly say 'back off.' " He pulled Meryl in close again, kissed her open mouth when she went to protest, and then slipped his hand up the front of her blouse to cover one of her breasts.
"Knock it off!" Meryl said, more forcefully, once she'd shoved him away again. "I'm serious! This is me saying, 'back off!' " Her head was starting to ache now, and she glared at him.
"Oh come on," Sean said, grinning broadly now. He made another grab for her. "You know you want this." Meryl stepped back, but he managed to seize her right wrist in one heavy hand.
She gave a little squeak of pain—it was already bruised and tender from where Vash had caught her falling, and Meryl reacted instinctively. She spun in an instant, twisting her arm so sharply Sean was forced to let go, and she stepped forward just as quickly to slam the heel of her palm into his mouth, feeling his bottom lip split open against his teeth.
"I said, no, you asshole," Meryl growled. "Touch me again and I'll—" But she cut off abruptly as her quick actions seemed to catch up to her now and she swayed to one side slightly, suddenly intensely dizzy. She clutched her head in her hands for a moment and watched Sean holding a hand over his mouth.
When he looked up, Meryl expected to see his handsome face twisted into anger but she was much more unnerved to see him smiling.
"I knew you'd have scrap," he said appreciatively, licking the blood from his lips. He advanced on her again and Meryl let one foot slide back on the hay-strewn floor of the stables, settling into a fighting stance with both hands up ready to defend or attack.
"Back off," she warned again, though she had stumbled somewhat before getting her stance completely solid and she was starting to understand how much her drunkenness was actually affecting her. The alcohol was dulling her senses enough to put her off-balance, and her anxiety grew as she realized the odds weighing against her.
Sean stood between her and the exit, and even though he was just as drunk as she was, he had almost double her mass. Without her derringers, Meryl's main strengths were in speed and skill—both of which were now hampered. She felt her mouth go suddenly dry and she swallowed, licking her lips apprehensively.
It was as if Sean could see all of Meryl's reasoning in her head and had come to the same conclusion. He was wearing that hungry smile again and it made her skin crawl. Then she finally realized she could shout, call for help. For an instant some part of her refused to do so; her pride, her ego—Meryl Stryfe can't defend herself against one man?—and she felt sick with herself for even thinking it.
"I'll scream," Meryl threatened.
"Who'd hear you?" said Sean, laughing. "Everybody's passed out by now."
For a long, tense moment they just stood sizing each other up.
"Help!"