“Toe juice.” Mya made a face, staring down into the bottle while she swirled its contents. “Never heard it described that way before. You have experience drinking toe juice, then? Is that one of those weird things people have to do to survive when they don’t have a huge safehouse like this to live in? Drinking the water they bathed their feet in.” Mildly inebriated rambles weren’t uncommon with her.
Ah, so he knew her name. If he’d been flirting with her, that would’ve given him points. Quirking a smile, she nodded once. “And he knows her name. Three points for you. Now I suppose it’s my turn to either admit that I already know your name, or pretend I don’t and make myself look like an uninterested snob. If I had a coin to toss, I’d ask you to pick heads or tails to decide which response I go with. But since I don’t have a coin, Gun Man, we’ll just have to skip that little game.”
“I like to socialize, but making sure there’s a habitable place to socialize is a lot more important.” And that was her explanation for all the tasks she handled. Shit nobody else wanted to do. So what if those tasks got her a little filthier than other people around here? She liked getting her hands dirty. The dirt under her fingernails was an indication of that. She set down her bottle and started scraping the underside of her nails clean.
Mya gave a laugh. “Somebody’s a little desperate,” she remarked of the woman tending the bar. “Unless you were hoping it’d be that easy.”