“I…” was all Missy had managed to get out before the dark women was gone; platter of bowls in tow and attention seemingly with them.<br/><br/>Mouth parted, eyes wide, she might have looked a bit comical if anyone concerned had the slightest idea how difficult it was to render the young Miss Huntington speechless. She’d had most of a speech spring-loaded and ready to fire the instant her hand had left the taller blonde’s. Gussied and polished -like most things the girl spat forth- by the end of it she’d hoped to have every eye and ear on her. Waiting with bated breath to join in the chorus of a new, up-beat tune. The likes of which the town could sorely use.<br/><br/>Assuring them that, yes, while Grand Ventures had left them to twist in the wind in this time of uncertainty, comfort had arrived. Deliverance at last. And in what a pleasing shape, no less. Leaps and bounds beyond whomever “Uncle” Max had delegated to see over the place. He had always been a miserable old fool anyway. His specific relationship to her father was nebulous, like most of his associates who’d been in and out of her life. Always bringing gifts -a finely carved figurine, pieces of silk in this or that shape from lands she’d only read of in books. Pieces of bric-à-brac that she, as the recipient, had cared about as little for as those who’d given them.<br/><br/>A little grease for the wheels is all they’d been. What did one man gift another man who had everything? The joy of his child, perhaps? And how much was a smile from Missy Huntington worth? A contract? A promise? An entire town?<br/><br/>With a frown worked over her pretty face, Missy watched as Victoria and Cassie made their rounds before disappearing again up a stairwell. Releasing a clenched fist, she glanced briefly down at the pressure marks of where nails had bitten flesh. Collecting herself, she’d snort like a frustrated kitten at her lack of rebuttal before addressing the bartender.<br/><br/>“You there, Barkeep.” She said, sweetly enough, even going so far as to douse him with a rather large helping of socialite charm as he turned. She was beginning to enjoy the expression these people wore when meeting her for the first time. That of a tickling awe, daring them to let linger their gaze if only to try and understand this ectopic stranger.<br/><br/>"Get you somethin', Miss?" He asked uncertainly.<br/><br/>Still grinning, she'd tuck her chin back against palms. "Tell me, do you enjoy your work here?"<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">~​</div><br/>"Miss Freeman!" She called, excusing herself from a conversation she'd been having with one of the dark dressed men from the train. "Miss Freeman, please."<br/><br/>She'd been joined by a rather massive, anxious-looking canine. The sort more at home pulling a sled through a field of freshly driven snow rather than panting and circling about the dusty streets of Onyx Landing. It eyed Victoria, emitting a low whine, but never skirting beyond Missy's pace to join. Only standing with tense posture at her side.<br/><br/>"Oh!" Noting the pistol at her waist. "Please, I do believe we got off on the wrong foot." She looked sincere enough, hands gathered at her middle and large, cerulean eyes pleading only a moment of her time. "I forget myself sometimes and, truly Miss Turner, I meant no offense in my questions."<br/><br/>Quickly, she snapped her fingers at the dark dressed man, eyes clenched as she reached for a name she probably had never known.<br/><br/>"Um, you..."<br/><br/>"Higgins, Miss." He replied, brow still damp from his struggle bringing the dog.<br/><br/>"Yes, Higgins. Be a dear and have a case of our Gold Label brought to our lovely proprietress here." Still, with dainty hands locked and eyes glued, "My gift to you Miss Freeman. I hope you don't find it improper, but your barkeep mentioned something of a shortage while we had a chat."