<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/9W71z0u.jpg)</div><strong>"Cotton?"</strong>he looked thoughtfully from the pre-game commentary's closed caption commentary.  His good eye gave her a thorough dressing down.<br/><br/><strong>"Yeah,"</strong>Slab thumbed his chin.<strong>"I remember Joe.  Saved me a time or two himself, too."</strong>He was surprised to hear she'd become a Warrior, but nodded in recognition.<br/><br/><strong>"Fighting's in the blood for you Cottons.  Shame about your old man."</strong>The shift in his jaw and the glean of recognition in his eye spoke volumes.  Or rather, hinted at the musty covers.  Something unfurled in his brain and a bit of a shiver shot across his shoulders.  Whatever crack in the facade was there quickly disappeared however.  Doubt disappeared as swiftly as it had appeared.  He exhaled, reached beneath the counter, and rifled for something.<br/><br/>With a clinking of glass he produced a bottle of something candy-coloured.  Arizona Amaretto, the browned label read, with a stylized desert and silhouette of a cowboy<br/><br/><strong>"This here's the last of your inheritance,"</strong>Slab said at length, as if mulling over his next words.<strong>"I owe this to your father.  Now here you come in his stead,"</strong>he shrugged,<strong>"it'll have to do.  Yeah, his kid.  I..."</strong>he scratched his chin, then his ear, then his head,<strong>"I remember you.  Little troublemaker."</strong>He chuckled.<strong>"Dad was always worried sick bout you."</strong><br/><br/>Slab didn't seem to know what else to say, but he gestured casually as if though to confer the freedom of the store upon her.<br/><br/><strong>"Grab whatever you like.  Friends and family discount.  So long as you're riding out of anywhere near C-Town, you can get the booze off me."</strong>