Slim Pickens

al’Zand hadn’t returned and Miranda was parched. She took a break, much to the house’s regret. The crowd spit and spewed words she dared not repeat — not from a lady. She scoffed in her mind.

The red head sat down at a nearby table and Miranda joined her. “Mind if I join you. We women have to stick together.”

The red head looked around at all the leering men then gave her a nod. “They don’t bother me.”

Miranda chuckled and leaned in. “To be honest, they don’t bother me either. But they don’t need to know that.” She sat down and the slim little waitress brought her another bowl of left over gruel and a dark ale. Perfect! Miranda patted the girl on her ass with a quick smile and before the girl turned around, another grouch of a man made a rude gesture and she was off to tend to his needs. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you do in here all alone?” Miranda asked. “Obviously not here for the men. Better places in better districts than this lowly sea district, I’m sure.” Miranda winked. “And the women are scarce.”