<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Ginny_Avatar.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong>July 18th, 1874 (Two years before game start.)<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Late Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Polecat Saloon<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Isobel Harley Montoya Marquez - "Harley"<br/><hr/><br/>Luck was on her side tonight.<strong>"Ah'll kawl,"</strong>Ginny stated, dropping a few freshly minted half-eagles, the golden coins rolling out of her fingers into the large pile in the center of the table.  Nothing out of the ordinary for the Whateley, who had been playing five-card draw since the morning, going from one saloon to the next.  Was this her fifth place?  Or sixth?  She had lost count for the day, just like she had lost count for the amount of coin that she had also won.  Her pouch was literally bulging from the seams with coins; it was only because of the exceptionally well-made stitching that it didn't burst and spill her earnings all over the place.  Hazily, she thought she would need to make sure to show up to St. Martin's tomorrow because the good Lord surely was giving her His blessing.  Not that she needed the coin, because she didn't, Grandma always made sure she had spending money but Ginny did adore winning.<br/><br/>More than a little drunk, she swayed in the seat the table before leaning over to her right.  Not a lightweight by any means, Ginny had long past the point of sobriety.  Those normally sharp green eyes were more than a little glazed as she tilted her head around, almost falling backwards to bellow out in a loud, abrupt fashion.<strong>"Squaw!  Wer'yeh'tat, squaw!  Mai'g'ass be uhm'tea!"</strong>Her cry was directed at one of the barmaids, a newly hired girl just a little over a week ago.  A pretty little thing--if you liked them red.  A lip-curling sneer was given at the thought of anyone taking those dirty, filthy things to their beds.  Growing up back home in Georgia, Ginny always remembered the lessons she had learned about the red savages down to the south of them, who'd kill a honest man and take his scalp to hang on their smelly animal tents.<br/><br/>It hadn't started out so bad when she first came into the Polecat, just a few snide remarks at the newly hired girl.  It probably didn't help that the girl wasn't half-bad looking to an objective viewer's eye.  And the barmaid's earlier protests over how she wasn't<em>really </em>a Sioux, only a quarter at the best, had fallen on deaf ears.  Still, it hadn't been so bad to begin with.  But now that she was drunk good and proper, Ginny was definitely looking for an outlet to her aggression.<br/><br/>As the poor girl hurried over, bottle of their most expensive whiskey in hand, to pour for Ginny, the young Whateley whipped her head to glower at the barmaid.  For an instant, those green eyes were filled with anger and wrath.<strong>"To'k'er tai'm, squaw.  Ah'waz'bout'ter'die'f 'hurst'ear."</strong>Her words were slurring together, even making her harder to understand than usual.  Grabbing the glass, she held it out imperiously for the girl to timidly pour as the golden malt filled her glass with the melting ice.  And without any decor, Ginny simply chugged it, her throat working convulsively, before she paused.  A few tense seconds ticked by as everyone wondered what she was doing.  Perhaps she was about to pass out?  Then, she explosively spat the liquor back out on the girl, who seemed too shocked to react for a moment, showered with Ginny's spittle.<br/><br/><strong>"Thi'be'yur bu'ist?"</strong>There was venomous contempt in Ginny's voice as she looked at the liquor-drenched barmaid, who now seemed to be on the verge of tears.<strong>"Git'muh'an'uder!"</strong>she snarled at the girl, who left quickly to the back.  No doubt perhaps towel off and perhaps get a fresh change of clothes if time permitted.<br/><br/><strong>"Oy, Ginny..."</strong>One of the grizzled men at the table said.  A regular that went against the young Whateley; she couldn't recall his name at the moment though.  His voice was reproachful, but he didn't dare do anything to stop her. After all, she<em>was </em>a Whateley and that name was a powerful name here in Gomorra.<br/><br/><strong>"Wot?  Shi'sun lay'zee'un!"</strong>She was unrepentant even as she recklessly dropped a stack of golden eagles that had most at the table blanching now.<strong>"Ah'll ra'ze'yeh."</strong>She smirked as all of them folded, leaving her alone with the pot of coins.  Then, her head whipped around again, looking for her whipping boy.<strong>"Squaw!  Don'be hiy'in', squaw!"</strong>And frowned when the owner of the saloon came out this time instead.  No doubt seeking to limit the abuse.<br/><br/><em>"Ma'am. Perhaps you've had enough for the night?" </em>The voice was half-request, half-command to which Ginny gave a large frown, turning the corners of her mouth down almost comically.<br/><br/>Without bothering to say a word, the young Whateley plucked up the stack of golden eagles.  One, two, three, four...the stack fell into the owner's hands.  Another stack joined.  Then, another.  Then, another.  And Ginny gave her most charming smile, those green eyes momentarily sharp and clear once again.<strong>"Ah'll'et yah'no wien'ah'm gud'nd'un.  Yu jest sun'der ow'te."</strong>That smile, both so lovely, reminiscent of her Grandma's kindly one, juxtaposed with a malicious edge to it that no one could miss.<br/><br/>But unfortunately, civility and courage and good manners fell way to greed as the owner clutched the golden eagles tightly between fat fingers, seemingly afraid that they might fly away.  And so, the poor barmaid was sent out again with a fresh bottle, her face so doleful and sad as she looked for some sympathy in the crowd.  And while she did see it in the face of the men at the table, it didn't seem as if anyone knew how to deal with Virginia Whateley.  After all, she also was a girl.<br/><br/>So with no help coming, the pretty little barmaid approached Ginny Whateley like you would approach the gallows, her footsteps long and heavy.  And the whole room tensed as another drink was poured and Ginny downed it.  Then, a collective sigh of relief was given as the young Whateley seemed content to drink in peace.<br/><br/>But...as the poor girl turned to head back to the bar, Ginny half-turned in her seat, took aim, and then planted her boot firmly against the bottom of the barmaid and gave her a rough shove to sent her to the room in an ungainly heap.  Then, Ginny began to laugh uproariously, colors of red on her cheeks as she flushed.<strong>"Mi'o'mai! Did'juh'si'it?  Did'juh?"</strong>She continued to laugh even as the poor girl scrambled to her feet and retreated to the back.  It was doubtful that any amount of money, eagles or no, was going to bring her back out again.<br/><br/>Then, she owlishly looked at the table, which wasn't laughing all that much.<strong>"Oy.  Wui'p'ayin' oar'wut?"</strong>And she slumped forward to grasp at the freshly dealt poker cards.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Translation</div><div class="spoiler_body"><em>"I'll call."  "Squaw!  Where are you at, squaw!  My glass is empty!"  "Took your time, squaw.  I was about to die of thirst."  This is your best?"  "Get me another!"  "What?  She's a lazy one!"  "I'll raise you."  "Squaw!  Don't be hiding, squaw!"  "I'll let you know when I'm good and done.  You just send her out."  "Me, oh my!  Did you see that?  Did you?"  "Hey.  We playing or what?"</em></div></div>