"When she's not stomping around and banging doors, she's all kinds of sweet. Rest of the time..." Hagar trailed off, shrugging. Her daughter's temper tantrums were likely normal for her age; Hagar couldn't remember if she'd been just as awful as a teenager. It seemed so long ago.
She had since grown cold and suspicious of everyone around her. Charity, however kindly meant, would never be accepted -- even when it came from a kinswoman. "Keep the venison," she told Mustang. "Sounds like you've earned it." There was no judgment in that; it would've been hypocritical.
In truth, the Cano were among the hardest clients to snare and the least likely to return for seconds. That said, Mustang was clever in going after the hard marks: their pockets were so much deeper.
"Speakin' of hunters... There's a Enk girl I've been meaning to ask both of you about. Goes by the name of Alice, I think. Or Orion." Hope had referred to her almost exclusively by the latter. "Any idea what she's about? She's been hanging around my kid." The mere mention of which brought a wry, humorless smile to Hagar's lips. Mustang was right about one thing: people who knew them for whores often made the mistake of thinking their loved ones involved in the same trade.