Firefly Glen [PHE] a kiss with a fist

The puff of the woman’s breath was so sour it made Cygnet squint. Nevertheless her appetite for the curious substance grew, when she noted how the woman’s movement denoted some amount of intoxication. Morbidly, Cygnet wondered how it felt, and if it was something close to being nearly dead.

She wasn’t so easily brushed aside, and moved back like a sidewinder so the woman couldn’t simply slip past her again. Not girl, Her voice was gruff, defensive. Here she was, fearsome and blood-painted, being called a girl.

If the shrewd woman’s true concern was getting in trouble for giving liquor to a minor, she’d address that concern as well. Won’t tell, She added, with what she hoped was a smoothe shrug of one blood-streaked shoulder.