Qeya River we got money ... we got dreams

there it came. here it stood. colt saw her words for what they were. sakhmet did not seem a woman inclined to press. she expected him to obey.
the thought rankled him, and yet it did so far less than the rogue had expected. "yew want me for the wintertime then, miz sakhmet?" his voice gently fell an octave, edged in smoke. 
would she play along?