2016/02/15 - Dealing With The Weather
marrow
pietro
rogue
Dealing With The Weather
Participants Marrow, Pietro, Rogue
Synopsis Marrow's taking a break to warm up from her four-hour patrol when Rogue and Pietro come upon her. The three talk of weather and the Peeper that was captured before it devolves a bit into snarking at each other.
Location West Facility, Rykers Island
Time February 15, 2016
Posted By Marrow

It's a chilly winter afternoon on Rykers Island — and that's precisely why Pietro is bundled up as he races toward the west facility from the general direction of his personal quarters. He's been blessed with super speed and not temperature control, after all. He's been out and about recently, busying himself with his own business and little tasks for the Brotherhood and it's only recently occurred to him that he's disturbingly uninformed about this downed Peeper and though it's somewhat old news now… Well, better to educate himself late than never. He comes to a screeching halt in the vicinity of the offices, kicking up a little cloud of dust that billows and dissipates before him.

Marrow has been out doing patrols in the wintery weather, but can only bundle up so much. While the techies have done what they can to create clothing which accommodates her bony protrusions while she's on missions, they've not been able to come up with a way to extend this to winter coats and such. So she stands near the entrance of the western facility now, huddled near a fire barrel, warming herself. Her winter coat sports several holes in the back, letting in the wind, so she turns every now and then to warm her back — there's not a lot of fat on her bones to keep her warm, so there's not much else she can do. Shortly, she'll go looking for coffee, likely. Spotting the cloud of dust and scattering snow that marks the passage of the speedster, she holds up a hand by way of a greeting as he gets close enough. "Pietro… long time no see," she gruffs in his general direction.

From the offices themselves exits another who doesn't care for this weather. Why is it always so damn cold up here? Rogue's bundled up and yet still looks rather chilly as she emerges from the structure, eyeing the lingering cloud of dust before offering Pietro a nod in greeting, and then another, slightly more familiar nod spared for Marrow as well. Gloved hands are buried deep in her pockets, shoulders hunched up around her ears. "Fuck it's cold," she remarks without preamble. As good a, heh, ice breaker as any.

It takes Pietro a moment — first to register Marrow's greeting and then, almost instantly afterward, to register just how cold it is. He hunches a bit as he looks around for the Boney One, trying to make the most of what warmth his leather jacket and hoodie offer him. "Hey. Yeah, I've just… been 'round," he answers with a shrug. He's just starting over to the woman when Rogue pipes up. "Well, 's winter. That's what usually happens. Gets cold." What would she do without him around to share these illuminating tidbits? But there is warmth over by Marrow and he wastes no further time in trudging on over to take advantage of the flames.

Glancing over at Rogue as she emerges, Marrow offers an equal nod of greeting, then a snort to the comment made by the Southern belle. "I'd say you get used to it, bu' I'd be fuckin' lyin' through my teeth," she rumbles lowly, her breath clearly visible in puffs of white as she speaks. She spent quite some time on the Manhattan streets in the winter-time and so she won't sugar coat things; it's bitter cold and you don't get much relief from it so long as you're outside. "Perimeter's clear, so I figure I'll go lookin' for some coffee soon and get my skinny ass out of this icebox. Just waitin' for the next shift person to take over," she reports, then looks back toward Pietro. "Captain Obvious," she mutters lowly with a bit of a smirk. "Been to see the Peeper yet? The techs are still pourin' over it. I swear, they just about had a coronary when I called it in." Yes, she's proud of herself.

"Yeah, well, maybe in this backwards ass end of the country," Rogue mutters in reply to Pietro's oh-so-obvious comment, giving him a narrowed stare. She steps down from the office stoop, starting to head over to where they're huddling. "Yeah, dunno why the hell people're wantin' to spend time outside at this time of year. Fuckin' insane, if you ask me." The cold has just put her in such an excellent mood, hasn't it. There's a nod to Marrow's report, filed away no doubt, but there's not really more for her to do on that front. "Ain't really been lookin' to get up close and personal to it. 'Sides, Ah wouldn't know a circuit board from, well, some other part that ain't nothin' like a circuit board. But been gettin' some interestin' reports. Or so Ah'm told by them that understand it."

"You're one to talk about backwards ass parts of the country. Anyway, since when did crappy weather make a place backward? Not that I'm doubtin' that Texas or 'Wherever-the-Hell, Down South' is so much classier and better off all 'round, of course," Pietro mutters sarcastically. He probably shouldn't be taking cheap shots. But hey, he got smirk out of the Bone Demon for his last comment — a smirk instead of, say, a stab. Not that he's even been stabbed by Marrow, of course. Still, he looks faintly smug as he sidles up to join her at the barrel. "Nah, haven't seen it yet," he admits with a shake of his head. "Been wantin' to, though." He pauses to glance back to Rogue as her footsteps crunch through the snow and adds, "Not that I know circuits either. I just want to get a good look at one of the fuckin' things. Call it curiosity… Nice work, by the way: Takin' that thing down."

Snorting briefly, Marrow rumbles, "Ain't so scary now that it's dead. Them fuckers like to zap you though. I don't recommend anyone just tacklin' one for a wrestlin' match." Like she did. "Toad's shown some interest, but then, that's all up his alley, right?" she comments, then rubs at her nose and sniffles a bit. She's been out here too long. Coffee is sounding more and more like heaven. Coffee. Hot chocolate. Tea. Soup. Anything liquid and warm. She turns a bit and warms her hands with the fire, rubbing them together periodically. She glances back and forth between Rogue and Pietro as they go on about backwards parts of the country. She's got nothing to add to it, though she looks somewhat amused. To Pietro, she says, "Thanks. Had some help from one of the Rykers 'citizens'…though she wasn't at the time. She got it to hold still long enough for me to take it out. Bu' yeah, thanks." She rubs her hands together again, then says, "Doesn't look so fuckin' scary when it's sittin' on a table. Worth goin' to see it before they tear it righ' open."

"Texas? Fuck you - Texas," Rogue snorts, rolling her eyes. "And crappy weather always makes a place backward. Who the hell'd set up shop in fuckin' Iceland if they didn't have to." She crosses her arms over her chest, giving the speedster a flat look. "As for Toad, reckon he ain't found much he don't wanna stick his nose into," she notes as she edges up on the barrel, near enough to feel some of the warmth, but not getting in too close with the other two either. "Maybe once they're done with the damn thing, we oughta put it on display. Of the 'head on a pike' variety, Ah'm thinkin'. Assumin' they don't just get it reprogrammed to go back out in the field on our side."

"Damn. There goes my plans for tonight." Pietro gazes into the fire as he listens to Marrow, rubbing his hands with a little extra speed — all the better to maximize that wonderful, warming friction. Though if he goes any faster he might just start a fire, freezing cold or not. He just nods to the comment about Toad. It's not until she mentions having had a bit of help with the Peeper that he perks up. "Yeah? Who's that?" He's keen to find out which one of the 'citizens' helped with the take-down — because even he'll admit that it's something to be proud of. And, yes, the fact that this nameless compatriot is both (apparently) a badass of sorts and a 'she' probably helps things as well. He doesn't think on it for long though as Rogue's indignant reply steers his attention away. "Texas, Tennessee. Whatever. Don't get your panties in a twist." He doesn't really know where she's from, of course, and what's more he doesn't care. It's far more fun to needle her than ask about it. "Anyway, 's not a bad idea: puttin' the thing on display or somethin'. Make sure they see just what we'll do to their fuckin' tin soldiers."

Marrow tries hard not to laugh; the effort simply results in her choking for a second, then clearing her throat. "Yeah, well… we're here now, so we have to deal wit' whatever backward weather we get dealt," she finally rasps, perhaps trying to appease both of her comrades. She doesn't comment about Toad. Instead, she focuses on the Peeper. "Ain't much a Peeper can do tha' one of the bigger tin cans can't do better or more. I think puttin' it on display would be a fittin' end for it. Really, wha's it do? It spies. We have enough people to do tha' job." So she concurs with the head-on-a-pike idea. Looking to Pietro, she mutters, "Called herself Hotwire. Controls electrical things, I think. I don't know the details. Once I got her here, I fucked off to deal wit' stuff. Haven't seen her since." She doesn't sound too concerned about that. But at least Marrow gave her credit where it was due and didn't claim it all herself. She's not like that. Instead, she focuses on Pietro's needling of Rogue and arches a purple eyebrow. Are people suffering from cabin fever or just getting on each others' nerves for the hell of it?

Probably a bit of both? Pietro earns himself a look of loathing. "Tennessee?" Rogue echoes, somehow finding that even worse than Texas. Or maybe it's just that he's getting still further off the mark. She doesn't have super-speed to help with the warming, so she just makes do with her hands jammed deep into her pockets and her shoulders hunched up like she's trying to retreat into her jacket like a turtle in its shell. Marrow's attempt to play peacemaker just earns the other woman a look. "Yeah, witness me dealin'," she grumbles, albeit with far less ire than Pietro earns. "Ah'll ask 'em if they can't put it back together again when they're done, just enough so's it's recognizable. Then we can put it out front and let it serve as a warnin' to all our enemies." Of which there are many.

The answer to Marrow's unspoken question? A little of both. Pietro doesn't need cabin fever as an excuse to be a prat from time to time — it's a public service he provides purely for the fun of it, as his smirk attests. "Huh. Hotwire, eh? Snappy name at least." He shrugs his shoulders, which turns into a little shiver. "Sounds like she could be useful anyway." Perhaps he'll have to see what this Hotwire has been getting into since her arrival on the Island, though not before he gets a look at the mechanical beastie at the heart of all this excitement, of course. "Yeah, let's see what the bastards've got to say when they see the fuckin' thing Peepin' back at him, all smashed to hell." He falls silent for a moment or two; in the interim his gaze falls down to his feet and he shakes a clump of snow from the top of one, specially-crafted Brotherhood boot. "Shit, Marrow. How long've you been out here?"

As she gets the look from Rogue, Marrow holds up a half, palm outward briefly. She'll sit this one out if she's going to get 'looked' at. It's not her funeral, so why should she care? She reaches into her jacket and pulls out a mickey of vodka, unscrews the cap and knocks back a goodly mouthful — while she can't really get much other than a ten-second buzz, perhaps, if she were to down the whole bottle at once, she can at least benefit from the feeling of warmth flooding down to her gut. There's a slight wince, then a sigh before she lowers the bottle and offers it to Rogue or Pietro with a raised eyebrow — will either of them snag it? Nodding at Pietro, she says, "She's probably still around." Hotwire, she means. "I'm sure if you ask around, you'll find her soon enough." She falls silent as she considers Pietro's question, squinting up into the sky momentarily. Then, a shoulder rolls, "A while. Next shift should be comin' soon enough. Four hours? Firs' time I've stopped movin', though." So now she's freezing. That's her problem: she stopped.

Well, for all her grab bag of tricks, Rogue can't actually kill with a look, no matter what the rumours in the dining hall might suggest. So Marrow suffers no ill effects for being on the receiving end. Pietro may not be so fortunate if he keeps pushing her buttons. Thankfully, conversation leaves off the matter of her home state, so there are no injuries for the moment. "And hell, if the sight of a smashed up Peeper don't send the message, we'll just hafta work our way up." To smashed up people is the (not entirely serious) implication. She's probably not really going to campaign for literal heads on pikes. Probably. She eyes the bottle of vodka, but then waves it off. No good risking losing even one iota of control, as far as she's concerned. "It's ain't standin' still that's the problem. It's the fuckin' weather." Crazy backwards ass-end place.

Hey, if Rogue's not going to take the vodka Pietro's certainly not going to turn his nose up at it. He snatches it enthusiastically and unscrews the top with a single, fluid motion, pausing with the bottle half-way to his lips. "'S a silly thing to do: stop movin'," he observes, though he's not really telling her to sod off and walk away, of course. He's just being helpful again. He shifts his gaze sidelong to Rogue. "And 's not the weather," he corrects her correction. "'S knowin' how to deal with the weather." Like keeping oneself moving, is what he means. Though he's not doing too great a job with that himself. The best he's doing is shifting his weight twitchingly from one foot to the other and back again. "Anyway, we'll do what we've gotta to get 'em to listen. I'm with you on that." No, Pietro probably wouldn't complain about more grisly measures either. Probably.

Not that Marrow fears an physical fight. A good fight is welcome by her, because she's crazy like that. But it's freaking cold and she doesn't think fighting in the cold would be too good right now — she'd have to get rid of her bulky coat to be effective and it's freezing, so… forget it. As Rogue passes up the vodka, she shrugs a little, holding it more prominently toward Pietro until he takes it. "I think most people woul' have to respect a place that has a couple of the oversized tin cans out front. If they don't, they're nuts. Besides, our defenses are pretty top-notch so we shoul' be fine regardless of whether or not they take the hint or warnin'." Then, she rolls her eyes a bit. "Well, considerin' we can't change the weather, keepin' movin' is one of the few things we can control, so…" She doesn't say 'drop it', but it's perhaps implied in her growl-y tone. She's had enough of the complaining, perhaps. Marrow is a woman with a limited amount of patience. It's implied and aimed at both of them, it sounds. "Anyway, yeah… puttin' it on display sounds like the righ' plan, so let's do it. Tell the techies to put it back together when they're done wit' it. We'll deal wit' the rest."

"Yeah, except we aren't all on speed," Rogue points out to Pietro, as he mentions it being silly to stop moving. Though her tone and words are sarcastic, she perhaps has a point that it's a little harder for some of them to be constantly in a flurry of activity. "Silly to be around outside in this stupid weather is what's silly." Though she recognizes the importance of the patrols, which is why she hasn't ordered them all inside for this conversation. Pietro gets another roll of her eyes. "Yeah, 'cause dealin' with the weather is so damn fun. That's how come people go south in the winter. God, even birds have enough sense to do that." Implying that he has less sense than a bird. Back to Marrow then, she arches a brow, seeming disinclined to drop the bitching if she's still getting a hard time about it from Pietro. She just nods to the matter of putting the Peeper on display, since that seems good and well decided.

As Marrow goes on about displaying the robot Pietro just takes a good swig from the bottle in his hand, wincing and sputtering a little as the liquid sears its way down. It takes him a few seconds to recompose himself before he replies. "Why don't we have someone who can change the weather? We should get on that shit. I mean, for all we know there's some fucker out there who can turn this place into Miami Beach." It seems that he's missed the hint to drop the subject, not that he stays on it for very long. "Hey, I'm not on speed. I am speed, man," he grumbles to Rogue, though his bravado isn't gleaming quite as brightly as it might were he not practically doing a jig to keep himself from becoming a Pietro-cicle. Distracting cold wreaks havoc on machismo. He swivels his wrist, focusing on the vodka swishing and sloshing about inside the bottle before he finally decides to cap it and offer it back to Marrow. "Anyway, you're still here too." Meaning that she's got about as much sense as he does, which is to say 'If I've got a brain the size of a walnut, then so do you.'

Marrow doesn't hold any authority over Rogue so as Rogue arches her brow at her, she merely shrugs. It's the reason she's not pushing the 'stop it' angle and leaving it as an unspoken thing. But it won't keep her from speaking her mind if she so decides, either. So instead, she asks Rogue, "Are you suggestin' we all just pack up and paddle this island on down to the tropics or somethin'?" She casts an amused glance over at Pietro as he winces and sputters. As the bottle is finally handed back to her, she takes it up and removes the cap, immediately taking another goodly swig herself, letting the liquid warm her from the inside. "Like I said, ain't much we can do about it bu' try to keep warm when we can… speakin' of, where the /fuck/ is my relief?" She glares around the place, obviously looking for the offending replacement person.

"Yeah, well, Ah ain't here by choice, and Ah ain't the one goin' on about how it's just fine bein' stuck here, happy as a pig in shit to be standin' about in the cold," Rogue counters back to Pietro, rolling her eyes at him. Back to Marrow, she smirks a bit at that suggestion, shrugging a shoulder. "Ah'm sayin' we should at least consider the idea. There's gotta be someone 'round here who can move earth, right?" Problem solved. Though a weather-changer would probably be easier. Belatedly, she draws towards Pietro, "You're somethin' all right, but Ah dunno if it's speed." Whatever it is, it's probably far less complimentary, considering her dark amusement.

"Dead sexy: that's the word you're looking for," Pietro quips right back to Rogue, a little smile of his own finding ground in his expression. He arches an eyebrow at her and then quite suddenly snaps his attention away from her and back over to Marrow. "Dunno where he is but you should beat his ass when he shows up. Or make 'im stick it out an extra couple hours." He's just cruel like that. "You want me to go lookin'? See if someone's just forgot to report?" He pauses a moment, awaiting her reply — and apparently still considering that idea about finding a mutant who might help them out of this frigid situation since he returns to the topic. "Weather-changer, earth-mover. Whatever. So long's we get a vacation from this shit." Screw the rest of New York. They're hardly his problem.

"Well," Marrow rasps to Rogue, "if you find someone to do that, just be sure to let us know so we can find somethin' to hang onto for th' ride." Then she shuts up in time for Pietro to comment about being 'dead sexy'. "I believe that's two words," she comments with a brief snort. She doesn't argue whether or not he's 'dead sexy', figuring Rogue will likely do that for the both of them. To Pietro's offer to go looking for her relief, she shakes her head and mutters, "Nah. If he's not here in a few more minutes, I'll go inside an' call th' office to get them to call him in." There's another snort, then she says, "A vacation woul' be a welcome thing I'm sure." She won't argue with that at least.

"How's about just 'dead'," Rogue replies without missing a beat, flashing the speedster a dangerous smile. But no, that's just her wishful thinking again. All right, she's sort of joking. Mostly. "You get any slackin' off regular like, you let me know, 'kay? Once you're done dealin' out your own brand of justice that is, Ah'm sure." She's not going to presume Marrow needs help fighting those battles, but information like that is valuable in its own right. "And Ah'm all for a vacation. So glad we're all on the same page 'bout the weather finally." But it's spoken wryly enough to be a joke.

"One word, two words…" This time Pietro can't be arsed to tag on a 'whatever'. He just punctuates with a convulsive little shrug and moves on. Well, mostly moves on; Rogue gets a Look for her witty little retort. One that lasts a good few seconds which, really, is a fair amount of time for him. "Yeah," he finally chimes in with a nod to Marrow, "we can't put up with anyone who's not willin' to pull their weight around here." So even if he's not explicitly offering his fist to help drive the message home it seems he's putting his stamp of approval on the ass-kicking, whether it's Rogue's foot or Marrow's doing said kicking. He opens his mouth to protest being on the same page as Rogue — though, really, they wouldn't all be here if they weren't on the same page about something, would they? — but he seems to realize that she has a point, much to his chagrin. And with an unamused look he decides it's probably just best to shut his mouth again on this one.

Purple eyebrows lift a bit at the 'dead' comment, but she doesn't take it further. Instead, she focuses on Rogue's offer. "Yeah, sure thing. I mean, maybe he just got held up in the city or on th' john. Bu' I'd really like to go get some coffee soon." That's the best they're going to get out of her in the way of a whine about the weather. "Anyone know what th' soup was today?" She's obviously thinking of fast ways to warm up, considering her back is constantly exposed to the effects of the environment and she can't just wrap up in a warm electric blanket when she gets home. "Anyway, he's usually pretty reliable." As Pietro goes on about people pulling their weight, she adds, "Yeah. Slackers aren't welcome. Bu' anyway, I'm sure he'll be here soon." With a look to Rogue, then back at Pietro, she finally questions, "So, why are you both out here? I've got to be out here till he gets here. Wha' the hell's your excuse?"

Rogue actually seems rather pleased to get that look from Pietro. Hey, he's so often the one getting under her skin, it's nice to turn the tables once in awhile. Death threats are well worthwhile to cheer her grumpy ass up? "Yeah, Ah ain't sayin' we won't give him a chance, but if you see any turnin' up late or skippin' out regular, Ah'd like to be kept informed." Though she does figure Marrow would probably do so anyway. But no point risking a miscommunication when it comes to their resources. As to the soup, she shrugs and looks rather pointedly over at Pietro. "No, but Ah bet he does." A shrug follows as Marrow asks why they're here. "Good question. Ah was just tryin' to head home for a few hours. Ah blame the both of you," she speaks with a wry smirk.

Pietro just shrugs again to show his lack of concern for how they ultimately decide to handle the matter of the late replacement guard. Slackers beware: that much has been established on all fronts. Marrow gets his attention with that all important question of what the heck he's doing out here in the numbing cold and he looks up from the quivering flames. "Eh. I was just coming out to see if I could get a look at the Peeper, really. Didn't have anything better to do and, well, like I said, I wanted to see the thing. But 's not like I planned on hanging out here. Outside, I mean… Oh. And it's corn chowder. Hope you like pepper because someone in the kitchen sure does." Well, Rogue was right. Figures he'd know.

"No worries about keepin' you informed. So far, most of them tow th' line, so we're alright for now," Marrow replies to Rogue. She drops that for now, focusing on Rogue's excuse for hanging out here in the cold. "Sure. Blame us. I don't care much either way," Marrow replies with a snort. She pulls an arm up and shoves her sleeve up a bit to look at a watch. Dropping her arms again, she finally says, "Dammit… he's really late. Pietro, would you mind runnin' around to see if you can spot him after all? I might call th' office if you can't find him… As for th' Peeper, it's in a warehouse in Clinton. Get one of th' drivers to take you out." As for the soup, she nods once, "Corn chowder… and peppery at tha'. Sounds like a good choice." Looking to Rogue, she says, "You shoul' get a hot meal into you before long."

"Yeah, don't reckon too many of 'em are lookin' to cross you," Rogue has to grant with a wry grin. Insubordinate officers can't be too often occurring in Marrow's ranks, after all. Or there would be a lot more reports coming from the infirmary about bone-related injuries. "Well, good. 'Cause Ah am blamin' you." When it turns out she's right about Pietro knowing the soup du jour, she just gives a snort, hardly surprised. And it's such an easy call, it's not even particularly victorious. "What Ah should do is stop hangin' around in the freezin' cold like a crazy person. But Ah guess a hot meal is second best."

"Yeah, sure thing. I'll letcha know when I know find him. Or find somethin' out." Pietro straightens up, already taking a backward step from the little gathering. Anything to get him out of his cold, after all. He might even take a break from sprinting about to grab a second bowl of soup, overly peppery or not. "And maybe I'll get head out to the warehouse later," he adds as he turns away. "Try not to freeze yourselves solid. Think we'll probably need you two." There's a smirk to that. And with that he's off with a little rooster tail of snow.

Making a face at Rogue, Marrow rumbles, "If someone's got to take the blame, I suppose I'm a better choice than some, bu' it ain't gonna get you much sympathy, nor any apologies." She then cracks a rare grin. She offers Pietro a bit of a salute before he finally makes his trek off to see if he can spot the guy who's supposed to relieve her. "I'm sure th' place ain't gonna burn down if I head off early. Security systems can take care of things in the meantime," she announces, blowing into her cupped hands and rubbing them together. "I think I need to get some coffee an' soup into me before I grow fuckin' icicles off of my bones."

"The way Ah see it, you're the only choice still here, so Ah guess you win," Rogue jests with a wry grin. She clearly isn't expecting much sympathy - or any genuine apologies. Really, pity is about the surest way to get a person decked. Pietro gets a sidelong grin, though she also rolls her eyes at his general self, watching him go for a moment before turning back to Marrow. "Ah reckon we can keep things secure for a few minutes without you, yeah. Go do what you gotta do. Though icicles on the bones would be awful stunnin' to see."

"Blame by default. Gotta love it," Marrow rumbles, then shoves her hands in her pockets. She'd not get much in the way of pity from the Bony One regardless, but it's fun to poke fun, right? "I suppose I'd have to get caught in an ice storm for tha' to happen, maybe, so I guess tha' won't happen anytime soon. Bu' hey, it would be kind of crazy, wouldn't it?" she muses with a bit of a chuckle. "Shit. Let's not wait to see if it happens. You gonna come get some grub, too?" she asks, starting to move away from the fire barrel.

"You got it," Rogue replies, nodding as to the blame and why it's on Marrow. The bones get a quick glance from her before she nods again. "Definitely crazy, yeah. Though probably best we don't hold out hope for it. Ah can't imagine it'd be too pleasant for ya, even if it would be a sight to see." Though Marrow could at least consider it, if an ice storm happens their way. Just saying. "Yeah, reckon Ah could eat. Ah … think Ah had lunch today. But fuck if that weren't awhile ago." So, yes, she's hungry, is the long and the short of it. She departs from the barrel's side with some reluctance to give up that bit of heat.

With a nod toward the kitchens, Marrow replies, "Enough about ice on my bones an' shit. Let's go get warm. Last one there is a popcicle." With that, she breaks into a jog. It's not truly meant to be a race. More just a way of Marrow telling her she's not going to saunter across the grounds to find that warm soup. She turns briefly, so that she can jog backwards to see if Rogue has decided to follow or not. "Food and th' warm indoors. C'mon…" With that, she turns around again and lopes off, assuming the Southern gal will be following.


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