Home

It was the time of glitz and glimmer. Rajah’s bags were heavy with chips, her pockets with brass. Business had picked up lately.

Each day leading up to the trade meet was a whirlwind. Agenda setting for the Council meeting, preparations for the poker game, and the frou-frou decorations Connie had prepared for Queen of Hearts Day were slowly invading the open surfaces of the Saloon every time she looked up.

//One time, for the money//
//Two times, for the love//
//Three times, for the beauty//
//These are the things that dreams are made of//

Her afternoons consisted of Filth Milk with Jed, the crowns of their hats leaning conspiratorially over their teacups. Her evenings filled with the slow swish of silken skirts and the tinny music coming from the Brass Rose.

She sat in her nook, staring quietly at the bustle of the town as it passed by her door.

A gentleman’s hacking cough reached her ears. Someone paused on her welcome rug leaving behind a tendril of /something/ putrid smashed inside a muddy boot-print. In the Library someone was cursing at the books and scribbling frantically in a notebook.

The reserved visage of the Queen of Hearts on her wall smiled wanly at them all.

//One time, for my body//
//Two times, for my soul///
//Three times, for my honey//
//All that glitters isn’t gold//

This town was sick, a darkness running through its heart, oozing around its gilt edges. The conversations in the hallway were terse and angry. “…red star sympathizers….” “…all that dirt contaminated…” “…better to be jolted than die, I say…” “…covered in black blood, never seen nothin’ like it…” “…dammit broke another pen nib!” The radio occasionally squelched a scream before returning to it’s distant plinking.

The Vegasian closed her eyes and smiled into her cup.

Ah. Home.