And Then There Was a Cat

[Redtricks]

Papa Beau did not take lightly to new faces if they seemed to be armed and wearing garish clothes. There had been exceptions, but this one, this one they'd snatched crawling past a Unicorn, hiding in the the dirt, and looking almost far too easy for a slummer to notice. Who in their right minds would grow hair that long, almost to her hips, and then dye them that colour? The natural reason he assumed this  muddied woman with hands tied behind her back was here was to cause trouble. And she was a clanner as well, by the looks of her merit board. Small, slight, in a leather coat and with fancy equipment.

"Why didn't you just gang up and rob her?" he asked Ricardo and his cohort of thugs, all thin -- not as thin as Papa Beau, of course, who was nearing his seventieth year. What he saw on the thugs' faces gave him pause. They seemed to look at each as if to encourage someone else than themselves to speak up. "Well? Cat got your tongue?"

In response, there was a purring sound from the woman, held at gunpoint on her knees. This was another reason for Papa Beau to be exasperated. A clanner, rich, sneaky, and probably insane? Finally: "Uh... we told her to shut the hell up, and she did, once we told we was taking her to see you. See.." Thomas fell silent, a lad of barely twenty. He nudged Ricardo in the ribs when he found himself wavering under the cataract stare of the old man.

Finally it was little Nimmey, barely fifteen, who had enough of this. She'd elected to be the one holding the gun against the woman's head, and had probably been the first to remember. The soft, nearly husky voice, the.. rest. Never the braids, though. "Papa?" she asked agitatedly.

Papa Beau nodded back, smiling with paper-thin lips. He'd been expecting Nimmey to put a pullet through the woman's head, but instead she yanked back the expensive armour hood, tugging the woman's head back by grabbing one of the braids. Huge, crimson eyes and a cheerful smile greeted him with the words: "Comment vas-tu, Papa?"

It had been years since Papa Beau -- or Ricardo, Thomas or Nimmey had seen the doctor who'd slept along them, depressed but slowly returning to life and cheer. The slummer lowered his hand, staring at a face that was both older and leaner, a body that was not as soft as it had been, and the gear. Mostly the eyes, which followed his movements like those of an albino cat... if said cat had a bunch of dye against a background of black leather. Sensing his mood, Ricardo cut the ropes as Papa Beau replied: "Bien."

"Ah, that is good to hear," Sandra said, watching him as Nimmey helped her up. The change in the tiny woman was remarkable. The tendency to act a little off and still utterly polite was there, but now Papa Beau felt as though he was a mouse. The woman had been a mere kitten. Now it was a full-grown cat he was watching.

"Did she threaten any of you?" he asked, racing to get his mind together. "No," seemed to be the universal answer, and thus he asked: "Sandra. What are you doing here?"

"What did I do last time?" she asked simply and curiously. Typical. Getting a straight answer from the woman was a trial in itself.

"Leave us," Papa Beau said, scratching his head of white hair, only to be stopped by Sandra who shook her head. "What? You want them to be here?"

"Oh. Yes," the good doctor-turned-medic said. "I am here to trade favours, and they may be of use."

This was not sounding good at all. "...what do you want?" There was always a price, especially among vagrants who had no insurance. No healthcare. And here... was someone who had helped people in exchange for nothing more than a few stories, food and a warm place to sleep until she had left for war. The craziest thing about it seemed to be that she had done well for herself, Papa Beau realised. Nimmey had been a mere child back then, but remembered the lullabies. Ricardo remembered a cool, soft touch and a gentle voice. Thomas remembered a splint with vague regret. And so many others had gone, who would have remembered her.

The Opifex smiled with unpainted lips. "I wish to give you food, treatment and medication."

And the price, Papa Beau wondered? What would it be? He needed only wait a moment.

Sandra explained. The deal was made, and for half a night and half a day, a humming, cheerful medic was hiding in the slums, treating and offering her supplies to others.

All in all, Papa Beau thought, the hardest part of the deal was getting the people to keep mum about the fact that a clan-aligned doctor had been there to help with illnesses and injuries they could not afford to have patched up. The easier part was wringing out the list of names for LaCroix from the patients. "I will return again," she had even promised, having kissed him on both cheeks and then his forehead, "Papa."