<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/21/JacksonJackson.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Jackson P. Jackson<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>5 June, 1870<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Soddom<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Lilah, Closed<br/><hr/><br/>He gave a little laugh when she said she liked listening to him jaw.  “Well that’s good.  Cause I like to jaw.  Or at least, so all the other miners complain,” he chuckled.  He watched her wrap the belt up and then come back to him, like she needed an inspection, and he smiled back at that big, beaming grin.  He didn’t know how rare it was - but it was the kind of adorable that made him think that his father, wherever he was, had missed out on a sweet little daughter.  “Well, a few buttons ain’t gonna put me out,” he promised.  “And if they give you any trouble you just send ‘em my way.”  He tousled her hair a little, then rose and stepped out of the tent, and shook his head.  “Ye ain’t no trouble.  If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be enjoying this dinner I plan on.”<br/><br/>He paused at her admittance, and then tilted his head.  “Probably him or one of his deputies.  I’m fair sure half the folks in Soddom don’t know their letters.  C’mon, we’ll go get our work done and then enjoy ourselves a meal.”<br/><br/>He began to lead the way off towards the town itself.  He normally didn’t have much cause to go deeper into the city than Miner’s Peril, but the sheriff’s office was at the far end of the Peril.  Miners anywhere else in the city tended to get looked askance at - until they showed gold or ghostrock in their pockets, when they were welcomed as customers.  Jackson didn’t pay any mind to the looks he got - a large white man running alongside a slip of an adolescent Chinese girl - though he slowed his stride so she wasn’t scrambling to keep up.<br/><br/>“So where you stay when you’re not off deliverin’ post?”  That wasn’t the real worry that lingered in his mind, though.  She was getting old enough that Samson wasn’t going to be the first man who looked on her like she was an untapped mine.  “If ye want - I’m planning on striking out towards a new claim tomorrow.  Wouldn’t protest some company.  Might end up we get eaten by Maze Dragons or starve out on a mesa or somesuch, but… “  He shrugged.  “Yer welcome to come along.  Ain’t big enough to work a mine, but I reckon you could catch a fish or two or fry up some bacon.”  He spread his hands.  “I can’t promise no wage, but - I promise.  If I eat, you’ll eat.  If I strike it rich - ” he grinned, “ - then I promise neither of us’ll ever have to worry about how we’ll find our next meal.”