"Ooo.  Good point."  The young woman winces in thought.  "Didn't get super-tough along with whatever you did get, when you got a bad case of the Awake...sorry to hear it.  Lucky for you, I know a guy in the medic business."<br/><br/>She turned to regard Kristen soberly, signalling the bartender with one hand.  The man hastened away on some errand or other.<br/><br/>"If you needed help, I would have stepped in.  You didn't, so I didn't.  And it's more like my talent isn't much good in a fight.  Some girls got the skills.  Me, I need a can of mace.  Or a taser.  Or the good luck to have someone like you around.  But hey, if you're not interested, you're not interested and I won't waste any more of your time.  Sorry."<br/><br/>The bartender returned, handing the woman a can of Foster's beer.<br/><br/>"Thanks, Pete," she said to him, fishing a handful of coins out of one pocket.<br/><br/>"On the house, Ms. Little."<br/><br/>The girl rolled her eyes.<br/><br/>"We've been over this, Pete!  Sets a bad example if you don't let me pay."<br/><br/>"Your coins are no good here.  Management doesn't want them."<br/><br/>"Great."  She looked suddenly resigned, sullen, sulky and younger than she did before.  "Can't get<em>laid</em>, can't pay my debts..."<br/><br/>And this, of course, was the moment that a certain paramedic arrived, taking the stool on Kristen's other side and cheerlessly ordering a Hangman's Gallows on the rocks.