<div align="center"><em>Ethereal Rose</em></div><br/>It had taken about three whole days to track Flam down in the wastes. He never went too far from a hold without going to another one, and he'd been orbiting Marco's place for a while now, but without a real anchor to stumble on it can be hard to find anyone out there in the open world. Lucky he was a busy dealer: plenty of happy clients around willing to point the way to a quick fix. A little bouncing around from pointer to pointer found Flam's campsite the third night spent seeking it out. Pretty lucky timing, all things considered: no way he'd bolt in the dark without his shit. Captive audience. Perfect.<br/><br/>Flam's lifestyle kept him in pretty good shape. He's a big guy, tall and filled out, but any extra bulk just got burned away by staying on the move outside anyone's walls. Had more than his fair share of scars, maybe, but the dude didn't look half bad. Pretty good scowl on him, too. Little wonder he'd been as successful as he was working without a steady crew to back him up: he had enough looks and stick to sway either way as needed. Maybe not enough to turn hard bargains into pushovers, but enough to make Thumbs nervous. After all, if Flam wasn't good at what he did, why would she be there to get him to stop doing it?<br/><br/>He'd just been sitting by his makeshift shelter, a shitty little tent that didn't even really hide his even smaller fire completely. Didn't seem like he was looking for company, so she gave him some anyway, just walked up and dropped on the clay on the other side of the fire, started going through the bag she'd brought along to look for her water. Only had a bottle to last the whole trip; had to make it last, but this seemed like an occasion to celebrate with a few sips.<br/><br/>When she wasn't completely dry anymore, Ethereal Rose asked, "You know who I am?"<br/><br/>Flam had been watching her across the fire the whole time. That voice was heavy but dry, rasping a bit: "Why would I?"<br/><br/>"Great!" She tucked the bottle away again and leaned in close, let the fire light up her face. "Let's talk."<br/><br/><hr/><br/>She gathered up her sparse travel belongings before Flam woke the next morning, shrugged back into a long borrowed coat and headed back out into the open territory between the holds. About a day and a half out from Marco's she could hear the distant crackle of a gunfight - pretty major one from the sound of it, lasting that long and carrying that far. Someone was going at it hard and heavy. Considering she was neither equipped for, nor interested in, somebody else's deathmatch, the Battlebabe took a bit of a detour farther away from the noise, adding a few more hours to her return trip to Marco's hold. Aside from that the trip was pretty dull. Had to hide from a roving creature she couldn't easily name at one point, hooked up with a couple travelers for a while to pass some time with conversation before parting ways again, otherwise just a lot of open ground to cover at as smooth a pace as she could safely manage.<br/><br/>Was dark-dark by the time she came up on the border of the hold. Flagged down a Dog on her way in, just to make sure she didn't get shot by mistake in the shadows. Coulda snuck in, probably, but just didn't seem worth the risk when there was no problem announcing herself to avoid it. Well. Not much problem, at least. It did mean people'd know she was back.<br/><br/>Still impressive how quick Black John showed up in her way after that. Hadn't even had time to decide not to drop by Thumbs' shit hole until morning yet before John showed up with Split and Gowan at his back to make sure that wouldn't happen.<br/><br/>Thumbs' place really isn't as bad as all that. It<em>is</em>a shit hole, but that's any place that isn't kept up by a skinner or someone meticulous, pretty much. Hard to not have your place look like shit when all you have to build it tends to be shit. Used to be a bar at some point, and probably still was from time to time, but Thumbs made his profits on better poisons than alcohol, so the bar was more of a special occasion thing than the main attraction. Thumbs was standing behind it with a bottle in front of him, enjoying something out of a whiskey bottle that was almost definitely not whiskey.<br/><br/>Having the bar in front of him made Thumbs look bigger than he was. The guy only had a few inches on Rose - maybe a little over six feet, give or take - but he seemed to be looming over the warped wood like he filled the whole space behind it. Probably standing on a bench or something. Wouldn't put it past him. The guy might be a smooth operator, but his social skills needed work and he knew it, so he wasn't above using a crutch when he could think of one. Wasn't exactly a looker either: broken-up nose, fat lips, pocked cheeks, muddy brown eyes in a ruddy complexion. And there were the thumbs, of course: he'd lost the fingers on his left hand in a bad deal years back. No one's too clear on how exactly he ended up getting a thumb stitched on every digit to replace them, but that's the way it was. And fuck if it wasn't unnerving seeing all those thumb-fingers bending around fat and thick on a stubby glass to throw back his drink. It just looked<em>wrong</em>, no matter how many times you saw it. Maybe you get used to it, maybe, but it's still just not right.<br/><br/>"Got good news for me, babe?"<br/><br/>"Flam's done here," said Rose. She draped the long, dusty coat over the bar. "Thanks for that. There was a dustup one day, was glad to have something to cover up through the wind."<br/><br/>"Oh, my pleasure, doll, my pleasure." Thumb-hand dragged the coat away to toss under the bar. Not like it was worth treating carefully, shape it was in. He'd have to get it fixed up if he wanted to wear it again. "So, done you said. How done?" He lifted his glass, peered at her through the boxy layers of it. Like he could see a fucking thing through that dirty shit.<br/><br/>"He wanted something in return for dealing elsewhere exclusively. I gave him something. He'll move on."<br/><br/>"...so, what, you're just taking him at his word? I'm supposed to believe he'll just up and drop business here 'cause some sweet tits asked him to?" Thumbs frowned at her. "Come on, girl, I gotta have more than that."<br/><br/>Rose shrugged at him, arms crossed. "Short of killing him, nothing I could do would prove he's not going to come back, and you told me you didn't want him dead. You tie my arms behind my back and tell me to juggle, you gotta expect those balls to drop. You do know what that feels like, yeah?"<br/><br/>Thumbs' frown was not improving. "Don't test me, E. Don't you test me." He threw back the rest of his drink, grimacing at the burn, then set the glass down by its bottle. "Fine. It'll have to do for now, but I so much as hear a rumor about that fuck on my ground again, it's your ass."<br/><br/>"Enough drama, Thumbs.  I've had a long week. I'm beat, I'm burned, and I need to crash." Rose turned to head for the door to find Black John standing in her way, shaking his head.<br/><br/>"We're not done here."<br/><br/>"Yeah," said Rose, "we are. I need to sleep and you got what you want. Sun's up again, I'll be checking on Amanuel, make sure the workshop's still set. Leave that guy alone with the vultures and dogs too long and they'll tear him up between them. I see he's okay, then I'll come back here and we'll talk about what's next, yeah?"