Poisonous Fox

That afternoon found both Marianne and Jackie tending the tavern floor.

It was the cheaper side of the house, with an open bar, several tables, some more booths lining the wall. The chairs were wooden and upholstered, same with the bar-stools. Currently, it was solely Jackie and Marianne working there, unless the kitchen staff counted.

“Hey! C’mon! My break’ll be over soon! C’monnnn, c’mon! Let’s go!” One of the regulars called out from a booth at the far side, nearest the door.

He had just come in and sat himself, and suddenly expected service, immediately. He was a poor tipper too. Which made sense, since he was only a senior apprentice. If he maybe ate out for lunch a little less, then maybe he could afford to be a little more generous when he did. Also, his clothes were drab and brown, and he stank of old must.

Of course, not that Marianne would tell him that.

Instead, Marianne watched him enter from where she stood behind the bar, she huffed, and then she turned towards Jackie, nodding her head between Jackie and the irritating regular.

“You wanna take that table then?” Marianne asked. “Show me your training in work?” Marianne grinned, knowing she was pulling one over on the new girl, but Jackie would have to learn somehow, and this was relatively tame, all things considered.

Jackie frowned, seeming to weigh the regulars worth, and in nothing more than a second. A ghost of a sneer touched Jackie’s lips, before disappearing under a placid mask. She shrugged, then answered.

“Sure,” Jackie said. “Does he need a menu?”

Shaking her head, Marianne answered, “Probably not, but ya never know. You good?”

“Should be,” Jackie said, already steeling herself and almost marching towards the man.

“Remember to smile!” Marianne called out, causing several patrons to chuckle. “Loosen up! Be friendly!”

“Yeah girl!” One of the three boys at the bar said.

Marianne heard the extra forceful step that Jackie took after that catcall. Marianne smiled sweetly at the boys sitting at the bar. “Ready for another pour?” she asked.

Two of the boys were wrapping up their meals, but the third had just pounded back his glass and slammed it back down with a disgusting belch. Even his friends grimaced, though it was all in good humor.

“Impressive,” Marianne said, nodding to the boy, and promising herself to make him suffer. Otherwise, the bar would get too rowdy. Though, a little rowdiness was good though the energy was part of what drew the regulars back. Well, that and the food. But Marianne would have liked to think that she added something to the ambiance as well.

But obnoxious belching was really going too far. Fortunately, Marianne had a plan.

She started preparing the three boys’ drinks, placing two glasses down before pulling down a bottle of liquor. She flipped the bottle up from behind her back, over her shoulder, and caught it by the neck before giving it a playful whirl. The boys laughed at her bottle flair; it felt good to have her skill appreciated. She tossed a few cubes of ice into the two glasses, then poured the slightly aerated ounce of brandy in. Then went the seltzer, and she topped the two drinks off with a slice of citrus.

She slid the two drinks over, replacing the empties.

The third boy, who had yet to receive a drink, the one who had belched, scowled. “H-hey!” he said, almost slurring but not quite. “What about me!”

Marianne poured him a glass of water, sliding it over.

“Water?! I wanted another–”

Marianne held up her hand, smiled, and shook her head. “Sorry! But your father’s the one footing the tab,”

“S-so?!” the boy demanded. “What’s that got to do with anything? S’not like anyone else’s dad S’not paying for them too. Unless you’re sayin’ my family is poor?” His face was growing redder and redder, and his eyes were almost bulging.

His friends had quieted up a little, feeling the growing tension. Because while jokes were fun and good, insulting families was not. Nobody wanted a blood feud.

Marianne groaned at the boy’s thick skull.

“No!” Marianne said, cutting off any further stupidness. “Didn’t your father speak with you about this?” she asked him.

“-About what?” the boy questioned, confused.

Marianne sighed and rolled her head, before hanging it. She lifted it slowly, meeting the boy’s eyes. “That you’re only allowed one strong drink, or two soft pours, but nothing other than that. Unless you want milk or juice? Seriously?”

For a moment, all three boys froze. Marianne reveled in it, in that moment of altered fortunes, of a rowdy little boy having his spirit crushed. Delicious.

Then that moment shattered.

His friends roared with laughter.

The rude little boy hung his head in his hands and groaned, “Faaaather whyyyyy?!”

His closest friend patted him vigorously on the back, “Don’t you worry! We can always find a cup of fresh meohr milk for ya!”

Marianne forced a smile, but meohr milk was gross.

The second boy finished slapping his compatriot on the back and flashed Marianne a winning playboy smile. “Will you be attending the academy this year?” the second boy asked.

Marianne hid her sudden anxiety, and returned with a smirk, “Why, you offering to pay my tuition?”

The playboy laughed off the joke, “No!” He waved his hands. “But I woulda thought Ma’Ritz would sponsor you… or that giant of a woman, what’s her name–?” he turned to his friends in question.

“Esmerelda!” the first boy answered, before adding, “May her thighs crush–”

“Gross!” Marianne cut the first boy off, much to the other boys’ amusement.

“But seriously!” the playboy started up again, “you’ll be going to the academy?”

“Maybe,” Marianne said, before thinking better of leaving it as that. “If I can. You know I want to.”

“Hey, no shame in that,” the playboy said, though it really failed to make much sense. Stupid boys. “Going for the School of Grace then?” he asked.

Marianne almost grit her teeth, but she refused. It was such a common assumption though. She was a girl, worked in the hospitality industry, so of course she would get Marked up for Grace. Ugh. Rather than voicing her ire, she decided to counter with a joke. At the very least, she would be getting a hefty tip from this.

“Hey now,” Marianne said with a smirk. “I might be aiming for the School of Combat!”

“A slip of a girl like you?!” the gross little boy blustered, still irritated with his glass of water.

“This!” Marianne shouted, pointing at the third boy. “This is why you got cut off!” Marianne scolded. “Learn to hold your liquor!”

The boy groaned and responded with drama and flair. He feigned a mortal wound and collapsed upon the bar. The other two boys ignored his antics, besides a light chuckle.

“Well–if you do end up in Grace,” the playboy forced the conversation back on whatever tracks he was after, “then I would be more than happy to help with some of the… course work…” he waggled his eyebrows, as though Marianne was unaware of what he insinuated.

“You’ll be joining the School of Grace as well?” Marianne asked, sounding as serious as she could.

This time, the other two boys laughed at the playboy, while the playboy blushed. “N-no!” he sputtered. “I’m in the School of Administration! You know that!”

Marianne did know that. But she had spent a long enough time with the boys to guarantee a nice bit of Cee, and she had other patrons to visit. So she winked at him, then strode off to meet Jackie who was just returning.

“All good?” Marianne asked Jackie.

Jackie’s face was tight, her eyes narrowed, but she nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good. That guy a regular?” Jackie asked, gesturing subtly to the man in the corner booth, the one who was on his lunch break.

Marianne, to her credit, never grimaced. Instead, she smiled and nodded, “Yep, he sure is! Why do ya ask?”

Jackie narrowed her eyes in suspicion, before shaking her head slightly, “Whatever,” Jackie said, before changing the subject. “Where do I put his order?”

“Uhhh…. The kitchen?” Marianne asked, confused. She pointed at the large hole in the wall between the bar and the kitchen, where dishes and orders were passed back and forth.

The three boys, who had been watching the exchange between the two girls, laughed at Marianne’s act.

This did not appear to humor Jackie, who narrowed her eyes even further, until they were almost angry lines across her face. “I know that,” Jackie bit out. “But where are the slips of paper upon which to write?”

“Oh. Ohhhhh…. Yeah. Those.” Marianne resisted the urge to scratch the back of her head. “Heh-heh…” She pulled the booklet of blank orders out from her pocket.

Jackie scowled as she swiped them from Marianne’s hand.

Some time later, chimes rang from behind the bar, causing Marianne to perk up.

The lunch crowd had left, and the evening crowd were filtering in by ones and twos, mostly day drinkers, or those who finished their shifts early.

The chimes which rang were connected to the front door, with a second set connected to the entrance to the tavern itself. So, when the first set of chimes rang, Marianne perked up, waiting for the second.

“Another patron?” Jackie asked dryly, just finished delivering a pitcher of ale to a duo playing cards. She had caught them watching her rear as she walked away, and while she was smart enough to avoid snapping at them, Marianne could tell that it bothered her. Or maybe, Marianne was projecting.

“Mmmmaybe?” Marianne said, drawing it out.

The second set of chimes rang.

“Yes!” Marianne cheered, “There it is,” Marianne said, glancing towards the hallway leading into the tavern.

A group of men came in, three of them, all wearing the baron’s colors, leather armor with black-scale brigandine and clubs at their hips.

“Oh,” Marianne said, deflating.

“Oh?” Jackie asked, questioning the shift in Marianne’s mood. She turned to see the newest patrons. “Are those… soldiers?” Jackie asked.

The men nodded dismissively to the barmaids and kicked an older man from a four-seater table. And while, yes, the single customer probably could have sat at the bar to free up the larger table, his relocation could have been done a bit better. The older man started to protest before seeing just who it was that had shoved him from his chair. When his eyes locked on the baron’s men, the older guy fled to the bar to quickly pay his tab.

“Worse than soldiers,” Marianne said in a hushed voice. “Those are the baron’s peacekeepers.”

Jackie gave a slight nod of understanding, and then muttered a word that Marianne failed to recognize. It started with a hard ‘p’ though.

“Want me to take the table?” Marianne asked, offering to do the odious duty of dealing with the newcomers. It would not do to pit the newest girl against such a potentially troublesome table. And it looked like Jackie was thinking the same way. Unfortunately, the peacekeepers called out first.

“Hey! New girl!” one of the armed and armored men called out boisterously. “Get over here and let us take a look at ya!”

“Ha ha!” One of them laughed. “Word was right! There is a new girl! Think she’ll be making services available later?”

Marianne’s lips tightened, and she strongly considered getting help. She wondered if Esmerelda would be up for a quick shift, if she could even dissuade the peacekeepers. Why had they come in this side of the house anyways? It was usually ‘beneath’ them, and Marianne preferred it that way. She was pretty sure everyone did.

“Ahh… maybe?” One of the peacekeepers waffled. “She’s a looker, but she might be a bit young for it. Ya know Ma’s stances on that–”

“-bah–if they’re consenting then–”

“-what if they’re not–?”

“Then they can be convinced–”

Jackie shuddered, but steeled herself and grabbed three menus.

Marianne caught Jackie’s eyes and mouthed, “Sorry.” Both barmaids were wincing.

Chauvinistic dogs.

But so long as the peacekeepers kept to themselves, then there was little Marianne could really do.

If the peacekeepers tried anything… then Esmerelda would bounce their faces against the cobblestone. Hah, no, that was a fantasy, Marianne thought. There was no way that Ma’Ritz would go to bat against the baron’s men.

As Jackie went to take their order, and hopefully nothing more, Marianne continued about her job and kept a side-eye on the devolving conversation. A lot of girls would roll over and play nice with the men, most of them. The men had a sense of power about them, both soft and hard, and they were used to getting what they wanted, though they remained deferential to those with actual political power–they had to.

But Jackie was holding her own, and without making any overt offenses against them.

Marianne hoped it would continue that way.

She would have continued keeping an eye on the situation, but Tiffany entered from the kitchen side.

Tiffany beckoned Marianne over.

While Marianne was reluctant to leave the new girl alone, it should be safe enough, so long as Marianne was back quickly. And it was a bad idea to offend Tiffany. That woman could hold a grudge.

So Marianne followed Tiffany out, stepping out into a back hallway, with the tavern remaining in earshot. She could still hear men clamoring for more drinks.

Tiffany kept going a couple of steps, until the noise died down, slightly, before pausing and turning to Marianne. There, the stern woman regarded Marianne in silence, until Marianne broke the silence.

“Yes, Tiff?”

“Tiffany,” Tiffany corrected. “Only Esmerelda gets away with that.”

“Fine,” Marianne said, resisting the eye-roll. “Tiffany, what’s going on? I need to get back and keep an eye on the new girl–first day and all, ya know?”

Tiffany’s brow almost pinched, but the alchemics kept the facial muscles still. It was always unsettling, seeing the placid marble like faces. But it kept the wrinkles away, and some of the men liked it.

“That’s why I’m here,” Tiffany said. “How the new girl doing?”

“Why do you–”

Tiffany held up her hand. “-Madame wanted to know.”

Ah. Ma. “Well, she’s doing alright so far,” Marianne explained.

“Any… issues?” Tiffany asked.

“Can’t Ma just see that through her little mirrors?” Marianne asked.

Tiffany’s face trembled again, the muscles fighting against the paralyzing agents. “...they don’t carry sound. And she wanted a second opinion.”

Marianne almost believed that. But, at the end of the day, Marianne decided it was best just to go along with it. If Tiffany got too out of hand, there was always Esmerelda.

“No hiccups,” Marianne said. “Though Jackie, she’s still working on feigning a good mood.”

“What do you mean?” Tiffany asked, honing in on the only issue there was, and probably planning to make a big deal out of it.

“It’s pretty minor…” Marianne said, hoping Tiffany would let it drop.

“What. Do. You. Mean.” Tiffany bit out each word, absolutely refusing to let it drop.

“Argh,” Marianne groaned. “Alright. So you know how most of the girls have to learn how to put up with… well… men?”

“...no.” Tiffany must have lied.

“You mean you like working with drunkards?” Marianne asked, letting her skepticism leak through her voice. Tiffany might be the senior of the two, but that did not mean Marianne had to roll over for whatever Tiffany said.

“There are plenty of men that rise above that base state,” Tiffany sniffed. She had crossed her arms. From her twitching face, it was obvious the woman wanted to frown.

“Right,” Marianne said, nodding along. “But in the tavern–”

“-No,” Tiffany interrupted. “Those were the baron’s men.”

“So?” Marianne asked. “Some would say that’s worse than the usual.”

Tiffany made a sound of disgust, almost guttural. “They are better than the normal drivel you serve.”

“...right…” Marianne said slowly. “But it’s Jackie’s first day.”

“Whatever,” Tiffany snorted. “I’m not going to argue with some pre-pubescent girl! Just, keep a watch on her!”

Marianne was not pre-pubescent! “Or what?!” Marianne mocked the older woman, maybe losing her temper a tad.

“You don’t want to find out,” Tiffany uttered quietly, a vein in her neck rising to the surface, her skin reddening.

They both stared at each other for sometime, before Marianne realized that she may have overstepped a tad. Taking a deep breath, Marianne nodded, deciding to de-escalate before she lost her job.

“Alright,” Marianne agreed. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

After another few seconds, Tiffany let out a deep breath. “Thank you,” Tiffany said.

Another awkward moment of silence passed, before they both excused themselves.

As Marianne returned to the tavern, Jackie glanced her way and made to break away from the table of peacekeepers.

But as Jackie returned to the bar, one of the peacekeepers reached out and made to grab Jackie’s wrist. Since the peacekeepers were Marked with at the very least a low grade physical advancement, they were faster and stronger than most, and it showed when his hand darted forward. Marianne winced, already forming a reason to intervene without making an enemy of the baron’s men. She was sure the man would yank Jackie back, maybe onto his lap. If Marianne failed to arrive in time, the man might even dare to fondle the barmaid. If Marianne had hackles, they would have been raised. She loathed them and felt her blood boil. But before she even made more than a few paces, Jackie reacted, quicker than an enhanced pit-cat.

Because, even though Jackie had her back turned, and even though the man was Marked, she reacted.

Jackie swiveled, half spinning on the ball of one foot, before continuing on towards the bar. It looked graceful, almost like a dancer.

The man was left staring dumbly at his hand, while the others laughed at him.

Marianne paused her step, holding her breath, waiting to see the men’s reactions.

“She’s got moves!”

“Aye–look at that!”

“-wonder if she’d be up to some fun later–?”

“-shut it!” The one that did the reaching complained, turning back to his table, grumbling, “-new girl doesn’t know her place yet…”

Marianne let out a sigh in relief, tension draining. That could have ended up very bad.

Soon after, Jackie and Marianne met behind the bar, with the anonymity of their backs turned to the tavern, and the din of the crowd.

“Do they come here often?” Jackie asked.

Marianne knew who she referred to. Marianne shook her head and explained some of the business on the Hill, at least as far as Marianne saw it. Granted, she was somewhat of a newcomer herself, and her duties seldom lent her much freetime.

“Every once in a while, but normally they stick to the other side, and normally Ma has a deal set with them.”

“Other… Side?” Jackie asked at the euphemism.

Marianne realized that the euphemism might have been poor, because there was a literal otherside of the house, opposite across the kitchens from the tavern. But that was not the side of Ma’Ritz that she was referring to.

“The night-work side,” Marianne said in a lower voice. “They have some deals in place, so it’s not so frequent. But they do get some of the lower tiered services.”

“Ah… I suppose I’ll be learning about that?” Jackie asked, seemingly tensed at her own question.

Marianne paused, wondering if there was a miscommunication. Because she knew that Jackie had already been informed that there would be none of that night-work for the two bar-maids. They were both too young, and Esmerelda would throw a fit.

“Noooo?” Marianne answered cautiously. “I mean, not unless you want to? Nobody’s gonna make you learn, though you might pick some stuff up, just by living and working here.”

Jackie’s shoulders sagged. “Good.”

Marianne agreed.

The peacekeepers eventually left, though they stiffed.

The evening crowd picked up, with a familiar duo of mercs coming up and claiming a table by the bar. Marianne even knew their names. They were pretty solid tippers, friendly, and appreciative of quick pours. Marianne decided to do Jackie a solid and give her the table.

“Recognize them?” Marianne elbowed Jackie as the duo entered.

Jackie frowned at them for a bit, before shaking her head.

Marianne rolled her eyes and groaned, “Really? I suppose you did drink a bunch that night.”

“Wait, is he–” she pointed at the hefty looking man “-the one that left me with a bill?”

“What? No! They were the ones you had a drinking contest with. Seriously?”

Jackie shrugged, but there might have been something of a smirk there.

“So?” Marianne asked.

The duo waved towards the bar, calling for attendance.

“So what?” Jackie responded.

“You want to take them or what?”

Jackie paused, a complicated expression on her face. “Is that… wise?”

“Pfffft, why not? They’re fun regulars. You’re gonna get used to seeing them sooner or later.”

“Alright…” Jackie responded with some hesitation.

Later that night, the tavern was crowded as usual, with Marianne scurrying back and forth like the overworked barmaid she was, complaining about the fact that Esmerelda had abandoned the post for better pastures.

Cook was scowling, like usual, shouting at her own underlings–her kitchen served two sides of the restaurant afterall.

And everything became so much worse when Marianne heard Jackie shout.

Marianne glanced over quickly enough to see Jackie twisting a man’s hand around, spraining his wrist. Marianne winced. She kept forgetting that Jackie was Marked.

“This won’t turn out well,” Marianne said, finishing pouring a drink and passing it across the bar. It had been too busy for her to really check up on Jackie, but Jackie had been working the tables well enough while Marianne handled the bar. There was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, and her blue-tinted hair stuck to her skin. She felt gross, the room smelled like spiced grease, and she eagerly anticipated closing for the night. But that was hours off still.

And in the meanwhile, Jackie had apparently gotten dragged into some sort of scuffle.

Just from the looks of it, Marianne assumed someone had made to grope her–an unfortunately common occurrence while passing through the tables. But where most barmaids would glide away from the unwanted affections, or twist and turn, or play it off, or just flat out ignore it, Jackie let the offense drive her.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, Jackie had the means to strike back. And she did.

In her grip, she twisted the man’s arm until he fell from his chair, sending it clattering to the ground, while she grabbed his back and put him in a hold. His buddies stood up, another chair falling, this time against a nearby table, causing drinks to spill, and two more patrons to shout, rising from their seats.

“Gods,” Marianne cursed.

She was not the only one to swear.

“Godslickin cunt!” the grabby man shouted. “Let go!”

Jackie hissed something into his ear, and jerked his arm up, further straining his shoulder. He gasped, and one of his buddies lunged across their table, knocking a half finished pitcher of ale across the ground. Jackie neatly sidestepped, angling the grabby man between her and his buddy. When that failed, the two buddies began coming around the table, flanking Jackie.

Marianne felt uncertainty, not knowing how to proceed. She needed Esmerelda. But the marsh giant was working the otherside. In a panic, her eyes caught on the two thick mercs, the regulars, ironically both named ‘Lou,’ though Marianne was pretty sure there was some sort of nickname based off a joke there. Either way, Marianne caught the female Lou’s eye, and Lou gave a quick smile and nod, before scooting her chair back and rising to her feet. She towered over the men.

“Oi!” Lou clapped. “Enough of that! Let the fool go, and the rest of you, pay your tab ‘n get out!”

The man cursed, louder than before, and Jackie glanced towards Lou.

Lou gestured for Jackie to let go. So Jackie did, but she gave one final twist and jerk as she pushed the man to the side. She stepped back as his friends helped him to his feet, with him sheltering his hurt wrist.

“What is wrong with you!” the man hissed. “You think you can walk all over me? Over us? We’re paying customers and–”

Lou cracked her knuckles, and her partner, the other hefty merc, laughed and leapt to his feet.

“We gonna fight?” the male Loue asked, an anticipatory tone. “Been a while since we had a good brawl. Ain’t that right, Lou?”

“That’s right,” she answered, “But it would be a shame. Wouldn’t, boys?” She asked the three men, her hand shifting towards her belt where several weapons hung. The men’s eyes followed, and one of them gulped.

“-but!” the injured man started, but his friend nudged him and spoke over him.

“-Sure, we’ll pay and leave. Who’d want to stay where cunts like that–” he nodded towards Jackie “-work. You can bet we’ll be spreading the word about this too.”

Lou scoffed. “Yeah, you do that. Let all your other fool friends know to stop molesting poor barmaids.”

The men’s faces reddened, they sputtered, but in the end, they slammed the Chargers down on the table and stormed off.

The Lou’s watched the men leave, before the woman turned to Jackie. “You alright girl?” the woman asked.

Jackie’s face was tight and narrow, and she seemed almost feral with her teeth showing, but she nodded and claimed she was fine.

“Sure,” the woman said. “Best get back to work then, yeah?”

The Lous both nodded and sat, and Marianne had to grab Jackie by the arm to drag her away.

“What was that?!” Marianne hissed to Jackie, once they were safely behind the bar.

“He grabbed–” Jackie started, but Marianne cut her off.

“-not that! I know he did! But you! You made a whole godslovin’ scene!”

Jackie glared, her canines seeming more pronounced than before. “Should I have let him get away with it then?”

“No!” Marianne said. “You should have avoided it altogether! And if you did get grabbed, you should have gotten back at him some other way.”

“I didn’t see his hand until it was too late,” Jackie explained, her face slackening slightly, her lips covering more of her teeth. “But some other way?”

“Yeah,” Marianne said. “We have something called a barmaid tax, we can’t always apply it, of course, but in cases like with them?” she gestured to the now vacated table. “Absolutely.”

Jackie finished deflating. “Motherswear it,” Jackie whispered under her breath. It sounded like it was supposed to be a curse, but Marianne failed to recognize the term.

“Well, what’s done is done,” Marianne said. “Best get it cleaned up, yeah? We’ll be hearing about this later.

“New girl making friends?” Esmerelda asked crossly.

The end of the night had come, and Marianne had been walking Jackie through the process, sweeping the floors, raising the chairs, and moving perishables to the cold-chests. While Jackie was still sweeping, Esmerelda had pulled Marianne aside.

“Ha, that’s one way to put it,” Marianne said. “I wouldn’t say it was the guy didn’t deserve it, but I didn’t think she’d react that way.”

“What even happened?” Esmerelda asked. She had already gotten the basic picture, it would have been obvious from anyone experienced, but she wanted the details.

So, Marianne had walked her through it, putting Jackie in the best light possible.

In the end, Esmerelda’s hand was clenched in a fist.

“Some people,” she growled, before shaking her head. “Was Jackie alright?”

Marianne nodded, “Yeah, she seemed composed after a bit. She really showed him up though, you shoulda seen it!”

Despite Marianne’s attempts to lighten the mood, and thus, the punishment, Esmerelda grimaced. “It shouldn’t have ever happened in the first place,” Esmerelda said. “But, what’s done is done. I’ll talk to Ma about it. Let’s hope nothing comes of it.”

“Let’s hope,” Marianne said, already thinking about the trouble this could cause. Not only could the men hold a grudge, but Ma could always fire Jackie. And what was worse, since it had been Marianne responsible for training Jackie, it could reflect onto Marianne as well! She knew she could not afford any lost wages. Life was too expensive, not including all the other things she needed

“Just–” Esmerelda waved at the tavern “-finish closing. And show Jackie how to disengage without embarrassing our clientele. Or risking her body, preferably.”

Marianne sighed, “Alright, but this isn’t my fault.”

Esmerelda snorted and left, “Course it’s not,” she called over her shoulder. “But if you don’t get her trained up right from here on out, it just might be.”