When your injured friend Stolas sends you on an errand to the Wrath ring, you meet a roguish imp who offers to work as your body guard during your time there. Taking place after the events of the season 2 episode "Western Energy".
A she-fell-first-h...
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"Alright, that should do ya'," said Miss Daisy as she stuffed more rations and supplies into the saddlebags hanging over Bombproof's sides. "You haven't needed this much from us in a while. Big plans?"
"New job," Striker answered, quickly organizing the contents of each saddlebag. "I'll prolly be havin' to stake out for a while."
"Sounds like fun," she deadpanned, crossing her arms and leaning on a support beam. "Well, I'm glad you're gettin' work again."
"You and me both."
"How's your little lady friend?"
Striker's movements slowed for a moment before he continued sorting his supplies. "She's good."
"Work and everything goin' alright for her?"
"As well as it can be," he replied curtly.
Miss Daisy smirked, craning her head to the side to get a better view of his face. "So it's serious now, is it?" she probed.
He paused, his fingers grasping the buckle to one of the saddlebags. "No."
A knowing grin tugged at her lips. "Uh-huh," she remarked, unconvinced. "You sure do pay her a lot o' visits for it not to be somethin'—"
"Here ya' go, Miss Daisy," Striker interrupted and handed her a thick stack of cash bound with an rubber band. "That should cover everything, includin' a set of shoes. I'll need to get Bombproof shod when I get back."
Miss Daisy raised an eyebrow as she stuffed the wad of cash in her overalls pocket. She watched him slowly close the last saddlebag and lightly sweep the non-existent dust off the seat of the saddle. He kept his back to her, pretending to still make himself busy preparing his cargo.
"You've changed, Striker."
Striker froze, his eyes locked on one of the stirrups on Bombproof's saddle.
"Not much," she added. "Just a little — ever since you met her. And not for the worse, either." She smiled warmly. "You've just grown a little bit softer."
He stiffened at her words, and he turned to refute her when Darryl called from the stable entrance: "Hey, Daisy, ain't you forgettin' something?"
"Ah, shit, that's right." She retrieved something from her brother before walking back over to Striker. "One last thing before you take off."
Striker let her take his hand and place a small mason jar in his palm.
"Some fig preserves for the road," she said. "No charge."
A half-smile tugged at his lips as he slipped the jar into his black case. "Much obliged, Miss Daisy."
She beamed at him. "You're welcome, baby. Be careful."
