“Boy, aren’t you all pieces of work,” Missy was laughing after the sudden calamity that found the would-be attackers out-gunned, out-witted and out-manned. She found that last bit especially hilarious as she wrenched against the man, despite Victoria’s admonition. “Three of you, out-foxed by a few ladies in the desert. Did you plan this at all? While you were out there sleeping on the dirt and eating cold beans?” Her ears were still ringing, and she was probably shouting, but she didn’t care.<br/><br/>“Shut up.” He mumbled at her, distractedly, inching away from the mess inside the bank and keeping his back toward the door. The shout from outside and the point of weapon barrels gave him pause, clenching at the thick, mane of blonde hair while he no doubt worked through his options with what admittedly feeble tools he had.<br/><br/>“Uh oh, Robin.” She was nearly singing to him then, even as he dragged her on stubborn heels toward the oppressive heat and sun. “Seems the Sheriff of Nottingham’s heard the commotion. What to do, what to do?” She was cut off as he shifted the pistol to his free hand and clapped a grubby mitt over her mouth. Causing Missy to cringe and kick. She felt his footsteps hit dirt and he was turning, waving his weapon in the general direction of the one-armed man.<br/><br/>“Lady, I swear to god, I’ll put a bullet in your head just to shut you-“<br/><br/>There was a blur of white, but no sound, and the man was rocked to the ground in a thrash of teeth and an immense weight and speed he hadn’t been prepared for. He was shrieking, hollering and scrambling to gain his footing and control of his arm from the jaws of Taggert. Missy, anticipating this sudden thrust of momentum, rolled and tore herself as hard and as fast as she was able. Losing more than a few hairs in the process and mangling what had remained of the ornate braid-work. Hissing at the pain, she’d feel herself roll free from the bandit’s grasp as he was dragged away. She’d lost her sense of direction in the mix of adrenaline and upturned dust but was able to lunge appropriately back toward her attacker. Reaching for his scalp, yanking, she’d drive her knee forward. Not able to see, she would only feel the thick crunch of something breaking beneath the force.<br/><br/>The man seemed to lose most of his fight, releasing his grip on the revolver and taking to kick, knee or strike at Taggert any way he was able.<br/><br/>“Off!” Missy shouted from her place in the dirt. Taggert released and circled to the blonde’s back, sending a cascade of threatening barks across a now mostly quiet town street. The bandit; gushing blood from face and forearm, rolled to one elbow in an attempt to balance himself. Missy, rising, bounced through two, lofty steps, left the ground entirely and swung her foot -pendulum like- until it connected with the downed man’s ribs. Breaking one and fracturing two in the process. He managed a pitiful wheeze before he collapsed to his back again, reaching lamely at his side for what might’ve been a knife. Not taking the risk, Missy kicked his one good arm aside and brought the heel of her boot down, hard, on the man’s open palm. This, he managed more than a whine for.<br/><br/>He was screaming, hurling whatever curses he could manage from beneath the flow of blood, when Missy took a seat on the man's chest. Taggert, quieter then, kept close. Rumbling his disapproval but not making a move even as the blonde leaned in close.<br/><br/>"Hi. Where did you ride from?" She asked casually, hoping she wasn't still shouting too loud.<br/><br/>"Fuck you..." The bandit gurgled.<br/><br/>She pressed the weight of one knee into him, against the place where broken bone theatened to puncture organ. He thrashed weakly, but was unable to move more than fractions of inches at a time without the grey and white beast there to threaten.<br/><br/>"Please answer me. I do hate repeating myself."<br/><br/>"...Fort Mann. East." It was difficult to make out the intricacies of what he'd said but it was good enough. More than she'd expected from him, given that regardless of what came next, he was crippled. A broken right hand and a severely lacerated left arm were no good to anyone. Especially the user.<br/><br/>"Thank you." She replied, sweetly, and rose to her feet. Unfastening the brooch; a rather gorgeous thing in the shape of a Carnation, bejeweled in pink and white stones, she tossed it to him. "You can keep that. I've got lots."<br/><br/>She'd turn to Victoria, Cassie, the retired officer who'd been a tad slow on the draw and even the One-Armed Man, smiling as though nothing really had happened. She'd certainly taken a dirt bath in the scuffle. Vest and silk blouse smeared with a mixture of filth and blood and once tan riding pants torn along one thigh. She went to wipe her hands clean, only to further smear some of the man's blood across herself. Grimacing, she'd turn a sheepish expression toward Victoria.<br/><br/>"You've got bandit problems." Blinking, Missy turned to look about the scene. A tiny smirk precipitated what came next. "Seems I've come at a good time. As I was saying, Miss Freeman," with that, any trace of the fuming, rage-spewing little thing vanished and was replaced, seamlessly, by the polite socialite who'd so recently introduced herself. "I'd love to have a chat, when you've the time. For now," she glanced at herself, "I think a bath is in order, wouldn't you say Taggert?"<br/><br/>Kissing the air twice, she'd turn to leave the way they came after retrieving her hat from where it'd been torn off. Followed closely by a panting, blood-stained hound.