I Don't Need No Ever Afters [open]

Narration
Thoughts
Speech
Other’s speech
Exclamations

The salacious and sexy Melrose Humplots did not take kindly to girls homing in on her terf. In especial ones that didn’t follow her creed on how to get a man. She had a whole list of the best ways to ring up the boys and make ‘em holler, but this girl had gone ahead and broken some of her no-no rules—rules that should be clearly demarcated as things not to be broken, and not, however her no-no

The bloody bucket. An odd name considering the place was neither bloody nor a bucket. The proprietor probably had some kind of story behind it, or maybe it was a euphemism for something. Kirk had never quite figured out the title himself. But that was besides the point. The Marshall boy wasn’t a drinking man, but on occasion his mentor did send him out to all manner of buildings with whatever people had ordered. Today, he was headed to that bar with a pair of new stools, each with three legs and a hardwood seat. It was up to the bartender to get some cushions, and Mr. Noda was more interested in quality of his forge than comfort for the buyer. Whistling as he carried a seat on each shoulder and gripping them from the top of the frame, he carefully opened the door with a booted foot and eased his way inside.

There was a good amount of people in the bar, but none that readily paid attention to him, people went in and out all the time, no big deal. Striding to the counter he plopped the chairs down and took the money the tender had had at the ready. The barkeep offered him a drink which he declined, but he grabbed some peanuts out of the bowl and began shucking them. There was some down time before he had to head back, and he figured he might as well rest up a little. Grabbing a rag, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, taking stock of the other customers as he did so. Mostly older gentlemen drowning their sorrows in whiskey or rum, and barflies, regulars, it seemed like everytime he came by the place the scenery and the clientele never changed.

There was a pair of gals too, not an uncommon sight, though a more uncommon sight was the lack of decently sized clothing the voluptuous blond was wearing. Like any other red-blooded male, Kirk couldn’t help but stare at the shorts and if it could be called such, the revealing shirt. She was smokin, even if the make-up on her face was so much it practically glistened. Tipping his hat at the pair of women-folk, he turned back to the counter.“Afternoon marms.” Sure maybe he appreciated staring, but that didn’t mean he had to leer like some of the older, more lecherous patrons. Kirk Marshall was a gentleman at heart.

Now girls like that were trouble. Pretty trouble, wrapped in plaid with a smiling bow plastered on top. Not girls like the one that kept apologizing for her very existence, (Good heck, but how could the patrons in the bar just stand by as she was physically assaulted by her father; the answer was a short and simple one, that being that in district ten, people learned to mind their own business pretty quick.) but the one that even now, was right up in his face. He had heard tell of her, he thought, if her overbearing nature was the one he had heard gossip about. The rose that was always on the prowl for a man, stopping at nothing. Her self-respect might have been long lost on her search for something better.Heck, she smelled like trouble and cheap perfume. It was obvious that she only had one thing in mind, and that Kirk was the target she had decided to lock onto.

Hadn’t that older gentleman the other day been talking about a sweet little thang that was the first in line to give it up to any guy at the bar was she had a few drinks in her? A one-track singlemindedness that offended the occasional person, as well as causing strife between scorned lovers. He could’ve be wrong of course. This didn’t have to be the rose, this could be any one of a multitude of barflies. After all, girls like that were a dime a dozen. The falsified innocent look on her face was unnerving; shouldn’t barflies be worn out and worn down from all the one night stands and the drinking? Unless she had just gotten her start recently. Not interested in a love that would last or in a real man, just content to spin her web and play her games.

It was a shame really. A waste of such a beautiful face. Was she merely raised this way, or was it just terrible choices she was choosing to make? Out on patrol every night looking for hearts to steal or names to drop, why, she couldn’t have been much younger than him. All dressed up and make uped out, ready to do whatever it took to get what she wanted; is what her stance toward him silently spoke. Maybe she was used to people wanting to use her for body. Or maybe she enjoyed it. It was hard to tell with people these days. Kirk could feel her staring at him from across the room, all the way up to where she was uncomfortably close. At that lack of distance she smelled like trouble at cheap perfume. One thing on her mind, and her target was undeniably him.

It wasn’t that Kirk didn’t appreciate her attempt at flirting with him, it was more that she was making him uncomfortable; as well, he had already wasted enough time at the bar, there were places he really needed to be. But how to let a maiden like that know that he wasn’t interested in a fling for the moment without making her upset. After all, the female mystique, while capable of taking his breath away, was just that. Mysterious and unpredictable. In that respect, she was no different than the one that was currently quietly sobbing while she looked at her feet. Why a girl of her age was even in a bar in the first place was beyond him She seemed too young to know about the harsh reality of the rest of world; but then again, in a place with the annual games, innocence was usually the first thing to go.

The voluptuous one had asked him if he was was looking for anyone in particular, as he had found her, a question to which Kirk had no good answer for. The only reason he had come here was to make that delivery and then to get back to work, it was not what he had expected to see a girl brutalized and then to see another make it very clear that she’d like to get into his pants. Kirk was at a social impasse. A part of him wanted to help that little girl; Marlie she had said her name was, but although Kirk was no coward, he didn’t want to get involved, for all he knew, she had done the terrible things her father and her had been arguing about, and he was in no position to come between a parent and child. The right thing to do would be to anonymously tip off a Peacekeeper about the domestic violence and leave it at that. Slipping off of his stool, he stretched, and started heading for the door with a blush.

And as for the blonde...

“ Name's Kirk Marm. Pleased ta meet ya, but I wuzn’t looking fer no one I wuz Marm. Jess a delivurry. Scuse me, I gotta skedaddle ‘n’ get back ta the forge afore ma boss get’s to wunnering whur I’ve gotten ta. No offense meant ter a beeyootiful thang like yerself. But a gots bidness ta attend ta.”

With another tip of his hat, Kirk headed out the door and into the sunlight, breathing in the great outdoors with a sigh of relief. Social functions were going to be the death of him one day, and he wondered not for the first time why he had let his friends cajole him into going to the barn dance that was going to take place after the county fair. Really not his type of event, but they had insisted he’d have a good time. If it was nothing but a bunch a drunken fools making passes at girls like that, he might have to withdraw from the thing altogether.

Then of course there was the unsavory business of finding an authority to talk to. It was unlikely that they'd care, but he had to try to do something to improve things for that little un. That one didn't know how to take care of herself. Not like the blonde did.

Still, he had to admit, that for an unassuming barfly, the gal had had a nice smile.