Snippet #2669363

The journey to Kirlsa had been an uneventful one, but Mack was more than ready to be done with it. When she discovered the last leg of her journey would be by horse drawn coach, she had almost turned back. It was hard to imagine a city worth visiting without at least one motorized transport. Even so, it seemed a pity to travel so far for nothing. Soon she found herself jostled against local passengers on their way back to home at an excruciatingly slow pace. She passed the time flipping the bronze token over her knuckles and pondering the logistics of getting parts into Kirlsa to build a car.

She was relieved to climb out of the coach and after a brief bustle to sort bags and parcels, Mack found herself alone in the square. Looking around, the largest structures seemed to be a groaning ancient windmill and a somewhat ostentatious house. No real industry to speak of, though that should have been no surprise. She wondered again why she had come. Finding at least one familiar structure in town, she directed her stride toward the local tavern and inn.

She claimed a seat at the bar, dropping her duffel with a thud and a clank, then ordered a hot meal and a pint from the charming country girl who was tending. She put down coin for her meal and more for a room, then turned to take in the locals. The crowd seemed typical of a small town by the sea. There were fishers and farmers and other hardworking folk taking a well-earned break at the end of a hard day. Finishing her meal, she struck up a conversation with a sailor seated near her at the bar.

"Evening, friend. Know anyplace to get work around these parts?"

The man turned to look her over, his gaze and grin typical of a man just returned from the sea. "Why don't ya come sit in my lap, love, and I'll whisper in yer ear."

"Sure thing I would, but then there'd be no place for your mother. Wouldn't be right taking any seats from the elderly," she quipped back.

The sailor didn't seem much amused, especially when his drinking mate guffawed and gave him a thwap on the back, this one a farmer by the looks of it. "Oh come now, ya had that coming. Don't mind my friend here, he'd sure enough grab after anything with legs by now."

Mack chuckled, turning an amicable smile back to the sailor. "No troubles, friend. Here, I'll buy the next round if it'll smooth things over."

The sailor seemed appeased and the farmer approving, so she waved over the keeper and asked for three pints and three shots.

"Tell ya what, gents. I'll pay tab for the night if one of you can drink all three shots before I can drink all three pints."

The two looked skeptical, but the farmer took up the offer over the sailor's grumblings of mistrust. "You're on."

Mack gave a challenging grin as she arranged the glasses, three small shots of whiskey before the farmer and three tall pints of the hearty local ale in front of her. "Rules are this - ya have to finish all three to the bottom, and there'll be NO touchin' of the other's glasses. Hands on your own, and that's it. Understood?"

The farmer grinned back, ready to start the challenge as he nodded his agreement.

"GO!"

Mack was chugging back the thick amber liquid as fast as she could go while the farmer easily knocked back the first shot. In a tavern like this, there'd be no top shelf booze so it didn't go smooth, but he was used to the local rotgut and Mack was only halfway through her first glass. The farmer took a deep breath, picking up the next shot and downing it before laughing at his obvious triumph - the loudmouth mechanic was only just finishing her first pint. Mack was too quick, though. Before the man could grab his last shot, she slammed the pint glass on the bar, upside down over top of the last full shot glass. The farmer smirked and went to move the glass out of the way, but Mack held the glass down firm. "NO touchin' the other's glasses, remember?"

The farmer groaned when he realized the trick and it was the sailor's turn to laugh while he grumbled over the loss. Mack downed the other two pints in decent time, then moved the pint glass aside for the farmer to have the last shot. "That there's a dirty trick," he complained, downing the last shot to ease his injured pride.

"Sure it was, but don't worry. I'm not after the tab. I'm just looking to know if there's any machinework hereabouts. Anything'll do. Gotta fund these tabs somehow, ya know?"

The farmer chuckled, feeling much more amicable after learning that he wasn't about to foot the bill. "Well, there's not a whole lot of that sort of thing around here. It's not often the steamships come out this way and there ain't much in town. Odd job or two maybe, but there's some ginger fella been snappin' all that work up the last week or so."

Mackenzie swore. "That about figures." Her coin purse wasn't overly light, so she could afford to stay a while. Still it looked better and better to cut her losses and go back. But for right now, she was already paid for the night. "Thanks, lads." There might be something more to be found come tomorrow, so tonight she was happy to enjoy drinks with the locals 'till the inn closed shop.