Josie MacPherson. *calmly removes her hat, sets it in her lap, and replaces the long hatpin through her topknot*
Right, yer real name?
Josephine. *neglects to mention that her real last name is Bryne; MacPherson, her mother�s maiden name, was picked up from living with her grandparents for the first fifteen years of her life*
Shoa . . . age?
*raises an eyebrow* Twenty-five.
Appearance? *gives you a once over and smirks*
Apparently you can see for yourself. *coolly regards Daley with blue eyes, a marked contrast from her tan skin and black hair, signs of one-fourth Indian blood in her veins* *is not very tall, maybe about 5�2�, but carries herself with pride* *certain features, such as her nose, keep her from being conventionally beautiful; instead, she is attractive in an earthy sort of way*
What's yer story?
Spent the last ten years on riverboats with Christine, until Danny was murdered. *her mother and her mother�s lover* Christine witnessed it, and killed herself over it. Serving drinks here is better than going back to my grandparents.
Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?
They don�t mess with me, I don�t mess with them. We�re all better off that way, don�t you agree?
Single tanight, or datin'?
Which do you want me to be? *doesn�t really care one way or the other if she has a beau or not* *sees emotional attachments as risky; after all, look what happened to her mother*
Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.
*pulls a derringer pistol, engraved with her mother�s initials, from a hidden pocket and gently places it on the table* That�s all, Daley. *neglects to remove the hat pin, or the slender blade sheathed in one of the metal supportsin the busk of her corset, a last resort weapon*
What's yer game?
I don�t gamble anymore. Poker, blackjack, when I did, though. But mostly con games. You know, the bereaved widow, na�ve young girl in danger, that sort of thing. Christine and I were good.
Anythin' else we should know?
*smirks slightly* Never drink while gambling. It�s bad for your health.