<hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Lilah 'Li-Li' Oliver (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9813377#msg9813377)<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whippersnappers<br/><strong>Date:</strong>5 June, 1870<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Soddom<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Jack<br/><hr/><br/><em>She’s a goddam chink. They ain’t even people.</em><br/><br/>It wasn't like hearing those words shocked Lilah any. She'd heard it, or things like it, so often that she half believed it so she didn't blink until Jack went an punched Samson again, even with the sheriff and a shotgun standing right there. He was spitting mad, and seeing it made her question everything she ever heard. Didn't all white people think that? Even the other whippersnappers treated her different and lots of them said she should only be able to deliver to the Chinese on account of white people not wanting her hands touching their things. And it was true, some folks would pass her right by to find another whippersnapper who was white when they had a job. But here was Jack, all angry, and the sheriff, who was letting him get away with it, and she had to wonder if they were right and everybody else was wrong. Lilah had no call to be afraid of Samson now but with the look he gave her she was glad she had Jackson P. Jackson to stand behind just the same. Her heart sank when the sheriff mentioned the fine at the thought that Jack would be punished for helping her out but just like that fortune turned again when there turned out to be a reward. She didn't want anything to do with the sheriff and the statement, the further she could stay away from the Law Dogs' office the better, but then there was the prospect of dinner and while she'd surely like to fill her belly, the thought of spending more time with Jack and not being shooed away held the greatest sway. She agreed to it all.<br/><br/>Minutes later she was sitting in his tent all bundled up in one of his big old shirts. It was kind of scratchy but she felt like she was wearing armor, like nothing could touch her while she had it on. A lot of kids had parents who tended them -- kept their clothes mended and food on the table and tucked them in at night with a story or two -- but even when Lilah's mother had been alive, she hadn't been a mother like that. It made as profound an impression on her as the fight had, watching him mending her shirt, working the needle carefully through the faded and thinning fabric with his calloused fingers. She watched every little thing he did, embarrassed that she didn't know how and most girls did, but mostly just in awe of the care he was showing her. Sometimes the world was changed by fantastical acts of courage or great words that moved the heart and stirred the blood but sometimes...sometimes all it took was a simple act of kindness. For the first time in her life, Lilah Oliver felt like she mattered but Jackson P. Jackson thought she did and that was enough for her. In time she would come to believe that for herself and for her own sake but for now it was the first thing that let her hold her head up high.<br/><br/>"Everybody calls me Li-Li, but that ain't my name," she said, hugging her knees as she watched him work. It didn't matter to her most of the time what people called her but she wanted him to get it right. "It's really Lilah. Lilah Oliver. It confounds most folks 'cause it's a white name but my mother was white and I guess my pa didn't want nothin' to do with me so a'course it is."<br/><br/>She was silent a few moments longer, still watchful as she continued to process all that happened that evening. "Why'd you do it? Why'd you punch ol' Samson again when he said what he said about chinks not bein' people? I never saw a white man get mad over somethin' like that afore. If I punched ever'body I ever heard talk that way I'd do nothin' but punch people the livelong day."<br/>