She lets her finish: it's obviously important to her. But in her head she'd already made up her mind, and all Letty's words do is illustrate that Tommy had seen something good in her, had been right about her.
They need more people like this. Women who will understand what the me have been through, but who are strong enough to push through that pain. She isn't thinking of giving her a home, not just yet, but she's thinking of giving her a chance.
She nods when she finishes, and fishes out a notebook, a small ledger just for her private use. There's a pencil she keeps in her purse, and she pulls that out as well. "We're not in the business of offering anyone charity," she starts, as she starts writing down Letty's name in small, meticulous writing.
"We're in the business of betting, and keeping a fine balance in this town. I'm not a generous woman, and Thomas isn't a generous man. The war made him hard, and you should know that. But if you know that and still agree to the terms, then I'll be content to have you work with us."
This is how Letty talked her way into the volunteer corps, too, with her dark skin and her forged papers; not that the papers weren't good of course, but she still stuck out amongst the fair-skinned natives of every land formally involved in the war. She was still suspicious, even offering to go into that kind of danger of her own free will.
All Letty has ever needed is a chance. She does the rest herself.
"I know," she says simply, rather than run her mouth more. The fabric of her skirt is twisted into her fingers, keeping her nails from her palms.
"And I thank you both." She doesn't need generous, or soft. Just a chance.
"How much did that boy promise you, Miss Ortiz?" She looks up at her through her curls, looking sharp, like she's perfectly made up her mind- and she doesn't need thanks for that.
"He has some sense, at times," she mutters, jotting that down. "Six pounds a month, and there's a two-month trial period. You get half a pound more after that."
She sits up, spits in her hand and holds it out. "Deal?"
"Right," she says, suddenly sounding a lot more cheerful. It changes her, though the lines in her face stay just as deep. "We have something to celebrate, then. You help me with dinner, and I'll make sure there's a bottle for us that the boys won't touch."
"Oh, Lord," she groans, but it's for effect: she's already standing, willing to do just that. "He said numbers, not cooking. Alright, let's see how quickly I can be dismissed."
She's passable, though. And, for the first time in a long while, feeling at least a little more hopeful.
It makes Polly laugh, quick and easy, and she shows her where the things
she needs are. Polly isn't exactly an inventive cook, but the meal they
prepare is hearty and fairly healthy, and before long everyone is filtering
in. John and his children, Arthur, Finn, Ada, and Tommy last. When he sees
them at the table he smiles, stands next to Letty.
"Alright, everyone. This here's Letty Ortiz. She's going to be joining the
ranks. You give her any shit, she's going to take care of it herself, so I
don't need to be bothered."
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They need more people like this. Women who will understand what the me have been through, but who are strong enough to push through that pain. She isn't thinking of giving her a home, not just yet, but she's thinking of giving her a chance.
She nods when she finishes, and fishes out a notebook, a small ledger just for her private use. There's a pencil she keeps in her purse, and she pulls that out as well. "We're not in the business of offering anyone charity," she starts, as she starts writing down Letty's name in small, meticulous writing.
"We're in the business of betting, and keeping a fine balance in this town. I'm not a generous woman, and Thomas isn't a generous man. The war made him hard, and you should know that. But if you know that and still agree to the terms, then I'll be content to have you work with us."
no subject
All Letty has ever needed is a chance. She does the rest herself.
"I know," she says simply, rather than run her mouth more. The fabric of her skirt is twisted into her fingers, keeping her nails from her palms.
"And I thank you both." She doesn't need generous, or soft. Just a chance.
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"Six pounds a month."
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She sits up, spits in her hand and holds it out. "Deal?"
no subject
"Deal."
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She's passable, though. And, for the first time in a long while, feeling at least a little more hopeful.
no subject
It makes Polly laugh, quick and easy, and she shows her where the things she needs are. Polly isn't exactly an inventive cook, but the meal they prepare is hearty and fairly healthy, and before long everyone is filtering in. John and his children, Arthur, Finn, Ada, and Tommy last. When he sees them at the table he smiles, stands next to Letty.
"Alright, everyone. This here's Letty Ortiz. She's going to be joining the ranks. You give her any shit, she's going to take care of it herself, so I don't need to be bothered."