<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3d/Ginny_03a.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Virginia<em><strong>'Ginny'</strong></em>Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 12th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Ballot Boulevard, entrance to Burnham Detection Agency<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Avery; OPEN<br/><hr/><br/><strong>"Yur shor' this be it?"</strong>The question was largely rhetorical when coming from the lips of Ginny as she eyed the small office space with an askance, almost scandalized look.  Though the day had only begun, the morning sun was already murderously bright - shining its sweltering rays down upon the young Whateley.  Fortunately, Ginny was more than prepared - with her large Stenson that hide her pale skin and covered her in the blessed cool shade.  Idly, a Bibical verse - one from Isaiah that spoken something about a shadow of a great rock in a weary land - came to the forefront of her land even as she surveyed the area around her.<br/><br/>Dressed this time in her comfortable leather chaps, a loose cream-colored blouse, and a blue overcoat made from linen and seersucker cotton with golden buttons, both to cover her and to keep her cool despite the layers, Ginny looked quite fashionable indeed.  Not that she ever looked unfashionable, but there was a certain ease in how she wore these clothes when compared against her Sunday  best.  Of course, not having to wear a whalebone-lined corset might have accounted for that difference entirely.  It was a bit funny - the thought that having the ability to breathe freely would make such a difference in comfort.<br/><br/>With her finely crafted pepperbox hanging cockily from her hip, attached to her belt in plain sight, Ginny at least looked like a cowgirl.  Or at least a model of one they might show back in the east to all the young tinhorns eager to head out and make their fortune.  Anyone with a practiced eye might have wondered aloud if the blonde Whateley even knew which end her gun shot from - the handle looking so new that it might have been ordered, and probably was, only a week old.  Still, appearances were something and to someone like Ginny - they might be everything.<br/><br/>Hence, her understandable dismay at the very humble shop in her own private, though openly expressed, opinion.  Not that her guide, a young Whippersnapper boy, cared all that much.<strong>"Sure is, Miss.  This is the spot."</strong>His cherubic features scrunched a bit, obviously wondering what did he need to say if his current employer chose to contradict or disagree with him.  After all, the customer was always right - even if they didn't have the damnedest idea of what they were talking about.<br/><br/>Another small sigh was given by Ginny even as she reached for a deep coat in her blue overcoat.<strong>"Fine.  'eres yur pay."</strong>A glittering quarter eagle was doled out to the Whippersnapper who eagerly snatched it up.  With a small pause, Ginny took out a very small pouch where she kept all her poor people's change, though she never said<em>that </em>aloud - more than once, Granny had chided her at back home for calling it that even though the older woman did privately agree with her - and fished out a shiny half-dollar.<strong>"Kin yuh also giv'er uh good 'ard knock?"</strong>Ginny wasn't about to do it herself - knocking was so...so...pedestrian!<br/><br/>And at the sight of the half-dollar, the Whippersnapper's face lit up.  After accepting the additional coin, he stepped up to the door, balled his hand into a fist, and began to pound away in a very attention-getting way.<strong>"Oy!  OY!!  You've got a lady here!!!  Here's a lady!!!!"</strong>He shouted, glancing back at Ginny to make sure this was to her liking,  and at the slight incline of her head - continued on with his loud knocking.