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[Mara=^.^=]

Next chapter sent to Katie for beta reading!

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
 

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

HUZZAH!!!!  It won't be long now!!!

[Mara=^.^=]

This chapter is dedicated to Katie, because MARRY MY BEEF 

I hope ya'll are ready to meet everyone's favorite derpy Backhairistan native! 'Cause heeeeeere we go!

 

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As it turned out, Dr. Bolbi wasn't hard to find. Tex and the Sheriff had barely finished unhitching their horses when they spotted him: he was out in the street, crouching over the unconscious Butch like some great, fat buzzard dressed all in tweed.

 

Mr. Neutron grimaced. �Stay here, Goddard,� he muttered, and with a heavy sigh, tossed the reins back over the post. He started off toward the doctor, and Tex trotted after him.

 

�Dr. Bolbi Stroganovsky,� said the Sheriff as they approached � it was more of a statement than a greeting. �Care to explain why you're squatting beside an unconscious man in the middle of the square?�

 

The doctor looked up. He was a toad-faced man, with puffy cheeks and bulging eyes that seemed to gaze off in opposite directions. He wore three-quarter pants and a scarlet bow-tie, and his brown hair was parted in the center and oiled flat against his scalp. Tex automatically scanned him for weapons, but saw only a tattered carpet bag clutched in one stumpy hand.

 

�Doctor,� repeated the Sheriff, �did you hear me? What are you doing?�

 

Bolbi pointed at Butch. �Man is dead, yes? Bolbi fix him up good, no problems?�

 

�You can't 'fix up' up a dead man,� returned Mr. Neutron irritably, �but that hardly matters, seeing as he's very much alive. Butch is merely suffering from the effects of over-indulgence. He should awake in a couple of hours � with a splitting headache, I'd imagine, but no worse for the wear.�

 

The corpulent doctor sprang up. �Headache? You have headache?�

 

�I didn't say tha��

 

�Bolbi will fix!� The doctor popped open his carpet bag and began rooting around inside. The sack contained dozens of identical brown vials, and the Sheriff stared on, dumbfounded, as Bolbi selected one and presented it to him. �You take this,� he instructed. �It will cure headache in only one hour, with big guarantee! Doctor Bolbi will sell it for cheap, $2 only. Is real good deal!�

 

Before the Sheriff could respond to the unexpected sales pitch, Bolbi removed a second vial from the bag and waved it at Tex. �Bolbi has too, medicine for pretty lady! One drink makes all your skin so soft and clear. Bolbi promises solemn vow: you will be more beautiful, or Bolbi gives back $1 price!�

 

Tex took one look at the unmarked bottle, and then turned straight to Mr. Neutron. �If this bohunk's a licensed physician, then I'm President Grant. Why haven't you run him out of town?�

 

The Sheriff hung his head miserably. �That's the rub � he is licensed � and it's not a forgery, as far as I can tell. Of course, his credentials were issued overseas, so even if they are authentic, that's no guarantee of competency. His ethics are certainly suspect, given that he spends most of his time trying to sell people his mystery elixirs. Every once in a while he'll find some poor sod like Butch and drag him back to his workshop, then charge an exorbitant fee for 'life-saving treatment'...�

 

�So...that is yes?� interrupted Bolbi, glancing from one to the other in earnest. �You want special-offer medicine?�

 

�That would be a resounding 'no', you potbellied quack,� answered Tex. �We're here on official law enforcement business. We've had a complaint about your pet goat attacking one of the townsfolk. You need to keep him confined, or the next time you see him, he'll be marinating on a spit. Do I make myself clear?� Bolbi's expression remained vacant, and Tex realized she'd have to simplify her instructions. �You. Bolbi. Your goat. Bolbi's goat is outside. Hurting people. Put the goat inside your yard. Do not let the goat out. Do you understand?�

 

�Ah yes! Doctor Bolbi understands! No more letting outside Yuri the musical goat!�

 

Tex opened her mouth to repeat the bizarre moniker, but then thought better of it. When Bolbi made no move to leave, or indeed to do anything other than stare blankly into space, she turned incredulously to the Sheriff.

 

�This man has the dead-eyed stare of an ox. You could kneel down with the chickens and start pecking grain, and I doubt he'd notice anything amiss.�

 

Mr. Neutron rubbed his temples, but didn't contradict her. She swung back to Bolbi.

 

�Well,� she snapped, �what're you waiting for? That shirt-eating menace is still running amok in the streets! Go find him. Go on! Get!� She aimed a swift kick at his rear end, and he scrambled off down the street, bottles tinkling all the way.

 

Mr. Neutron watched him go, and after a pause, he said, �You know, for a second there, you actually sounded like a real deputy-in-training. Authoritative, direct, though perhaps a bit overzealous... you almost had me thinking you cared about public safety.�

 

�Yeah, too bad I'm evil incarnate,� she shot back sarcastically. �Real shame, isn't it?�

 

�Yes. It is.�

 

He turned and walked back toward the horses, and there was something in his voice that made Tex wish she hadn't spoken. Is that really what people think of me? she wondered as she rushed to catch up.

 

She fell into step beside him. �I'm not a complete monster, you know,� she blurted. �I would care about public safety, if there was a 'public' to care about. Decent people are a rare breed in these parts, Neutron. I live in the company of cutthroats and defilers, and they'd happily flay the skin from my bones if I gave them the chance. But you know what? They will never get that chance, because I'm smarter and faster than all of them.� She hesitated before adding, �Just like I'm smarter and faster than you.�

 

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned round to face her. �Oh really? Is that so?� She could hear the challenge in his voice, and it left her feeling unaccountably pleased.

 

�Yes. It is so.�

 

He withdrew his gaze and continued walking. They stopped beside the horses, and he reached up to pet Goddard, who was perched behind the saddle.

 

�Smarter...faster. I guess it remains to be seen, Vortex. I'm sure the week will provide ample opportunities for us to demonstrate our respective abilities.� He tugged his horse's reins free of the hitching post. �But, in the meantime, I fear that I have some mundane activities to attend to. There's an errand I've been meaning to run since Tuesday, and it's high time I took care of it.� The Sheriff climbed onto his horse, then nodded at the outlaw. �Well? Are you accompanying me or not? Mount up!�

 

Tex swung up into the saddle in one quick, graceful movement. It made the Sheriff's ascent look woefully slow and ponderous, and Tex flashed him a triumphant smile. �Superior agility: check,� she said, before taking off down the street at a gallop.

 

�Slow down, Vortex!� he shouted, barreling after her. �You don't know where we're going!�

 

�Then I guess you'd better catch up!� She called over her shoulder.

 

After a bit of a race up the road, they eased up on the reins and matched strides with each other. A thought had occurred to Tex, and she voiced it as soon as he pulled up beside her.

 

�Don't you think it's dangerous,� she asked, �not having a real doctor in Retro Valley? What if someone falls ill, or busts a leg or something? Disease and misfortune never sleep out here in the back country.�

 

�You needn't worry,� he said confidently. �Bolbi has a twin sister, Ignishka � and what her brother lacks in ethics, she makes up for in medical know-how. She doesn't have a license, and she can't speak a lick of English, but I saw her set a broken ankle once when Bolbi was away. It was masterful. So you see, we are not without recourse in the event of a disaster. And of course, if all else fails, the townsfolk can always turn to me for help. I lack formal training, but I've studied medical theory, and my understanding of physiology goes far beyond the rudimentary. I am well-versed in all matters of the human body.�

 

Well-versed in all matters of the human body... He spoke these words with a scientific air, but that didn't stop a slow tingle from creeping over the outlaw's skin. A string of unwelcome thoughts followed suit, and Tex was caught so off guard that she nearly veered her horse off the track.

 

�Trouble, Vortex?� asked the Sheriff, raising an eyebrow. �Glass of milk too much for you?�

 

Color rose in her cheeks, and she whirled away from him. Two heartbeats later, her embarrassment surged into anger, and she squeezed the reins until her fists shook. How dare he, she thought. How dare he get into my head like that. I can't afford to entertain improper notions about a target!

 

�...Vortex?�

 

�What?� she snapped.

 

�We're here.�

 

Tex shook her head to regain her bearings; they had stopped in front of a gray building on the outskirts of town. Grateful for the distraction, she sized up the structure and found it to be thoroughly unimpressive. Weeds grew unchecked along the foundation, the paint around the windows had begun to peel, and the porch sagged in the center. Even the sign above the entrance was in disrepair: it read RETRO VAL EY J IL SE.

 

Tex jumped down beside the hitching post, and the gravel crunched beneath her feet. �Jilse?� she asked, shading her eyes as she looked up at the sign. �What the Sam Hill is a Jilse?�

 

�That's jailhouse, Vortex,� he said as he tied off his horse. �Sandstorm last week took off some of the letters, and I haven't gotten around to fixing them.� The outlaw's eyes flashed at the mention of the word �jailhouse�, and Mr. Neutron smiled. �What's the matter...does my dear deputy have an aversion to establishments of lawful repute?�

 

Glaring, Tex marched toward the porch. As she defiantly stomped up the stairs, the lawman emitted a shrill whistle.

 

�Goddard, door!� he called.

 

To Tex's surprise, the Sheriff's dog bounded past her. The gray canine hopped up onto his hind legs, took the handle in his mouth, and pulled down. The door swung inward, and the Sheriff motioned for her to enter.

 

The outlaw's mouth dropped open. �But...how did you...you trained your dog to...� she tripped over her words.
 

�Like I said earlier, I'm a man of many, many talents. Now go on, go inside!�

 

Tex looked down at Goddard, who had curled up on a mat next to the entrance. His wagging tail went thump thump thump against the surface of the porch. �Thanks?� she said awkwardly, before stepping over the threshold and into the jailhouse.

 

The floorboards creaked as boots met wood. As it turned out, the interior was every bit as drab and uninspiring as the exterior. Dust coated the stacks of paper on the desk, and cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. The whole place had a musty, foreign smell...nothing like the balsam drafts of the Sheriff's house.

 

Tex planted her hands on her hips. �This is your jailhouse?�

 

�That it is,� replied the Sheriff, appearing behind her. He removed his hat and tossed it onto the desk. �It's pretty bare-bones, but it suffices. How does it strike you?�

 

She turned a slow circle as she appraised the facility. �It looks like a broom closet.�

 

�Oh, come on, it's not that bad.�

 

�Isn't it?� She walked the length of the room with a sneer curling her lip. �Windows, filthy. Walls, rickety and mouldering. And � look at this!� She came to a stop outside the prison's only jail cell. �A jailhouse, with only one cell? Have you taken leave of your senses? What if a posse of bandits rode into town tomorrow? What would you do with them all?�

 

�I ��

 

�What if you arrested a man and a woman at the same time? Were you planning on throwing them in there together, with that bed right in the corner?�

 

�Well I ��

 

�What kind of a lawman are you, keeping your lockup in this sorry state? The trapdoor in your bedroom has better security, for pity's sake.� She pointed past him. �Look here, that bed I just mentioned � is that a box-spring? Because any thief worth his salt could use one of those springs to pick the lock. And take a good long look at that back wall. Nothing but a bunch of flimsy pine boards � can't you see the problem with that? Hell, when I was bounty-hunting in Nacogdoches, I saw a lady blast a hole through a softwood wall using a Ruger that she'd hidden in her bustier.�

 

The Sheriff edged closer. �You seem to know an awful lot about jailhouses. Firsthand experience, I presume?�

 

�Not as an inmate,� she answered. �When I was a kid, our town had itself a regular crowbar hotel. I used to swing by on occasion.�

 

�Childhood visits to the local penitentiary? Now that is interesting. Any other incarceratory wisdom you'd care to dispense?�

 

�Yes, as a matter a fact, there is. For starters � God, I can't believe I have to say this � your desk is within pissing distance of the cell. You're going to want to move it farther away, unless you'd fancy a warm shower when you least expect it.�

 

If Tex had been paying attention, she would have noticed the Sheriff steadily drawing nearer. She would have caught him unfastening the clasp on his badge, would have seen him repositioning the pin so that it hung on by a thread. But Tex wasn't paying attention. She was far too preoccupied lecturing him on the prison's shortcomings.

 

He came up behind her. �Back up. Let�s start with the wall...which sections would you recommend replacing?�

 

�Sections?� repeated the outlaw. �Forget sections.� She swept her arm in an arc. �I'd redo the whole thing, corner to corner, from the bottom plank up...�

 

He leaned forward, as if to get a better look...and the badge he'd carefully loosened fell from his vest. It struck the threshold with a ping!, bounced once, and rolled into the cell's open doorway.

 

Without thinking, Tex bent to pick it up. �Hey dunderhead, you dropped your ��

 

The Sheriff shoved her forward with all his might. Caught off balance, she stumbled into the cell, and he slammed the door shut behind her. The metallic clang hit her harder than any gunshot ever could, and she spun and lunged at the barrier � but it was too late. Panic buzzed in her ears and prickled over her skin, and rage wasn't far behind. She turned on her captor like a cornered animal, teeth bared in a snarl.

 

He leaned nonchalantly against the cell. �You know, you look pretty good behind bars.�

 

�Go to hell!� she shouted. �You have no right to lock me in here! I demand that you release me this instant!�

 

�Well, which is it? Should I go to hell, or release you?�

 

Tex pulled her revolver from its holster. �Open the door, Neutron,� she hissed, pressing the barrel against his stomach. �Open the door, or your last meal will be lead. I mean it.�

 

�My my, someone's in a temper. And here I thought you'd be impressed with my ingenious little trick. Life's full of surprises.�

 

�I'll pull this trigger! I MEAN it!�

 

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. �Nah, I don't think you do. See, killing me won't get you out of there. For all your bluster about inadequate facilities, this jail is more than capable of holding you. I had no part in constructing this building � it was already here when I bought the land � but I did design the cell you're in. It's not just a set of wraparound bars...it's a cage, with pine planks laid over the back to join it with the wall. Oh, and the door is secured by a custom deadbolt, so I hope you brought some sophisticated lock-picking equipment. You could try shooting it open, of course, if you'd fancy a nice bullet ricochet.�

 

Tex lurched forward and grabbed him by the shirt. She yanked him down to her level, and he caught hold of the bars to steady himself.

 

�Idiot!� she yelled. �You think you're all high and mighty, just 'cause you managed to put one over on me? You don't have even have an inkling about how the real world works. You live in West Texas, and you have one jail cell. Need I go on?�

 

He wriggled in her grasp. �I don't need more than one cell, Vortex. Retro Valley is a safe haven, and I've taken steps to make sure it stays that way. In the year and a half I've lived here, I've never once had to throw anyone in jail...until you, of course. Congratulations.�

 

�The presumption! You think past luck is a guarantee of future security? Safety isn't permanent! I don't care how idyllic this precious little town seems right now. Sooner or later the outside world will get a hold of this place, and when that happens, it'll go to straight to hell, just like every other settlement in this godforsaken territory. You mark my words.�

 

�It doesn't have to be that way. Not if someone is willing to stand up and protect it.�

 

Tex pulled on his collar until the fabric dug into his neck. �This isn't Massachusetts, Neutron!� she shouted. �There is no justice, no order, no sanity this far into the sticks. People out here are savage as a meataxe, and they will take whatever they want from you, whenever they want it. Got that? You stand in their way, and I swear to you...you won't be an obstacle for long. They will eat you alive.�

 

He grabbed her by the hand. �Like you did?�

 

Tex jerked back, cradling her hand as though she'd been stung. Her fingers were still tingling from the coarse warmth of his shirt, and she rubbed them distractedly before returning her pistol to its holster. �That's...that's different,� she stammered. �I'm not the one who wants to kill you.�

 

�All right, then � who does? Answer, and I�ll let you out.�

 

Silence.

 

�Well?� he pressed. �You do know his name, don't you?�

 

Her lips drew into a tight line. �I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Sheriff. There's a non-disclosure agreement in my gun-for-hire contract...it stipulates that I cannot reveal the identity of my clients without their express permission.�

 

�What if I were to venture a guess or two? I have a fair number of enemies back home, and I wouldn't be surprised if one of them resorted to violence. You could give me a signal, blink twice when I hit on the right one...�

 

�No,� Tex said firmly. �I'm fond of loopholes, but I'm not an out-and-out oath breaker. The terms of my contract are very clear on this matter.�

 

He was quiet a moment. �All right. I can respect that.� He relaxed, easing himself down against the bars. �Assuming that I cannot convince you to divulge information on your client, I�d be willing to settle for information on you. I must admit, you aren�t an easy person to pin down.�

 

�Perhaps that�s by design.�

 

�Perhaps. But if you want to get out of this cell, you�ll have to give me more than that. Let�s start with those childhood visits to your local prison.�

 

No details, cautioned her inner voice. He might use it against you later.

 

�All right,� she said after a pause. �That�s harmless enough.� The outlaw retreated a few steps and affected an indifferent air. �I used to visit the jailhouse, Mr. Lawman, because I enjoyed talking to the prisoners. Listening to tales of their exploits, mocking them for their failures, lording my freedom over them � I was a pretty rotten kid, you see. I got a kick out of thinking I was better than everyone else.�

 

�Did your family know you were fraternizing with convicts?�

 

�My father encouraged it. My parents moved to Texas to help 'civilize the West', as they called it � my mother was a schoolmarm, and my father was an attorney. He dreamed of bringing law and order to the frontier, and he said my 'childlike insights' into the criminal mind helped him be a better prosecutor.�

 

�And your mother?�

 

Tex stopped. �She didn't care what I did, as long as my actions didn't reflect poorly on her. My mother's mission in life was to convince the world that we Vortexes were the greatest of all God's creations. She was a firm believer in her own innate superiority.�

 

�Ah. A belief shared by my own parents,� he said wryly. �All right, next question: how does the daughter of a small-town prosecutor end up becoming a professional gunslinger? I doubt you laid in bed at night as a child and dreamed of living a life on the lam.�

 

You're right, she thought. I dreamed of happier things.

 

�No more questions,� she snapped. �I'm done revealing secrets, unless you'd care to surrender some of your own. How does that sound, Neutron � want to show me the skeletons in your closet? Open yourself up to scrutiny and judgment? ...No?� She kicked the baseboard as hard as she could. �Then open the damn door!�

 

Exhaling in resignation, the Sheriff fetched the key ring from a peg on the opposite wall. He turned the key in the lock, and the hinges squeaked as the door came open. The second she was out of the cell, Tex turned heel, grabbed him by the shoulders, and rammed him against the bars.

 

�So help me, Neutron,� she hissed, �if you ever try anything like that again, I'll...I'll...�

 

�You'll what? Shoot me? Go ahead. Nothing's stopping you. I'm easy pickings, after all. Isn't that how you see me? A five foot, ten inch target with a price tag attached?� She scowled and jerked away, and he dusted off his vest with an air of finality. �That's what I thought. Now let's get a move on � I wasn't lying about that errand I had to run. I just...allowed us to get a little bit sidetracked first.�

 

He stooped down and retrieved his badge from the floor, and Tex had to resist the impulse to smack him upside the head. In the end, her resentment found another outlet � she stormed over and snatched the Sheriff's hat off his desk.

 

�You've lost your hat privileges,� she said primly, brushing off the brim. �I'm confiscating it until I deem you worthy of its return. Oh, and don't be surprised if it acquires a few bullet holes by the time it finds its way back to you. I'm simply hopeless when it comes to trigger control.� With that, she stuck her nose in the air and marched out the front door.

 

Laughter and vexation mingled in the Sheriff's voice as he chased her down the porch steps. �Vortex, you have no right to seize my personal effects! Give me back my hat!�

 

He made a grab for it, and she dodged toward the horses, holding it at arm's length. �What's the matter, Neutron? Too fast for you?� Tex ducked under her mount and came up behind him, then made a great show of placing the hat onto Humphrey's head. �Ah, simply marvelous!� she exclaimed, clasping her hands in mock admiration. �It suits him, don't you think? I've never seen such a handsome creature. Far better looking than the hat's previous wearer.�

 

�I'm warning you, Vortex, take my hat off that horse this instant, or I'll ��

 

�Or you'll what?� Defeat registered on his face, and she snorted derisively as she climbed into the saddle. �Yeah,� she said. �That's what I thought.�

 

 

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Bolbi is very pleased that you read this chapter, and he hopes that you will leave an enthusiastic review. He would also like to know if you are interested in purchasing one of his high-quality, health-restoring tonics.

 

 

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT

-Ulysses S. Grant was president of the U.S from 1869–1877, and all in all, he was a pretty cool dude. He was a famous Union Army commander during the Civil War, and in the heat of battle, when his staff officers were full of anxiety, Grant was known to calmly smoke his cigar. His nerves of steel were a wonder to his men - he could write dispatches while shells burst around him and never flinch. Oddly, although he witnessed some of the most violent battles in history, Grant could not stand the sight of blood. Rare steak nauseated him, and he was known to cook his meat to the point of charring. Delish!

-Nacogdoches, the town Tex mentions bounty hunting in, is known as "the oldest city in Texas", boasting sites of human habitation that date back 10,000 years. The city has been under more flags than the state of Texas, claiming nine flags. In addition to the Six Flags of Texas (no, not the theme park), it also flew under the flags of the Magee-Gutierrez Republic, the Long Republic, and the Fredonian Rebellion.

-Since I mentioned box-springs, you should know that the inner spring mattress was patented in 1865 - however, it was not until the 1930's that they became dominant in the bedding industry. The primary advantage of the box-spring is that it's less likely to become infested with bugs than other forms of bedding.

-Vocab:

• Bohunk - derogatory term for an immigrant from central or southeastern Europe
• Sam Hill - a nickname for the devil
• Crowbar Hotel - oft-used prison

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

 

 

NEXT PART -> A Visit to the Sporting District

[Katia11]

EAT MY BEEF DANG IT. 

 

And awwww.. I needed this today. THANK YOU. 

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

Brilliant, just brilliant, Mara!  That bit about Dr. Bolbi about had me in stitches, it was so funny!!  Keep up the good work!

[Mara=^.^=]

What Western would be complete without a charlatan doctor?

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

Exactly my point.  Derp.

[Mara=^.^=]

Something is screwed up with the formatting...every time I try to copy and paste stuff now, it ends up all weirdly indented...

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

 

[underwater]

I looove all the little parallels hidden in their dialogue. I read somewhere that people who like each other mirror each other's body language and speech and stuff, and this reminded me of that! Like:

 

“You'll what? Shoot me? Go ahead. Nothing's stopping you. I'm easy pickings, after all. Isn't that how you see me? A five foot, ten inch target with a price tag attached?” She scowled and jerked away, and he dusted off his vest with an air of finality. “That's what I thought. Now let's get a move on – I wasn't lying about that errand I had to run. I just...allowed us to get a little bit sidetracked first.”
>

“Or you'll what?” Defeat registered on his face, and she snorted derisively as she climbed into the saddle. “Yeah,” she said. “That's what I thought.”

and

 

“Yes. It is.”

>
“Yes,” she grinned. “It is so.”

 

Also

They will eat you alive.”

He grabbed her by the hand. “Like you did?”

That is HOT

 

AAAGHHH great chapter so funny and the sexual tension was at ridiculous levels

can't wait for more

 

Corinne

[Mara=^.^=]

Yay someone noticed

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

AAAGHHH great chapter so funny and the sexual tension was at ridiculous levels

can't wait for more

 

Corinne

 

I noticed that a lot of the time, too, Mara!

[Mara=^.^=]

lol I miss old-school IDOJ reviews. The people on fanfiction.net are all like 'hey-o that was cute b4 the jail cell i thought they were gunna kiss so when are they hooking up???"

 

And I'm like HAVE YOU PEOPLE NO CONCEPT OF PACING

 

I guess ff.net readers really would prefer sloppy makeouts in every chapter over character development and snarky writing.

 

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
 

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

Thankfully, I'M not one of them!

[Katia11]

WHY NO KISSING, MARA? GOSH. GET WITH IT. 

[Mara=^.^=]

TEX: So Sheriff, I heard the readers want us to swap saliva

SHERIFF: WHUT WE CAN'T DO THAT YOUR SALIVA HAS CRIMINAL COOTIES

TEX: Oh, grow a pair and pretend like I haven't threatened your life multiple times

SHERIFF: But that would take the all fun out of i--- I mean. 

TEX: ....

SHERIFF: ........

**commence make-out**

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Ang]

^ I approve.

if they made out because of that in this fic, it would be OK by me~

[Mara=^.^=]

You people are reeeeeeeaaaaaallllllllyyyyy something says the girl writing the romance fic in the first place

 

~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =

[Katia11]

we just need a little lovin' 

[JimmyxxCindy4EVER]

*muah, muah, MUAH!!*