What’s a groom price?

“Yeah, next question,” you repeat, eyes flitting over the journal, “what’s a groom price?”

“Oh! That’s the arm and leg that we gotsta pay for a husband,” the bar girl grumbles, teeth exposed in a near snarl, eyes dilated.

“I see,” you say.

“Hey,” the bar girl says, suddenly serene, “look at me.”

You look at her as she looks you dead in the eyes, all her humor gone in an instant, and says “you single by the way, hun?”

“Lily!” The conductor snaps, frowning at the bar girl Lily.

“Hey,” Lily scoffed, putting her free hand sassily on her hip, “don’t you ‘Lily’ me, I’m off the clock, Emilia, you got no need to bust my ass for drinkin’ and a little fun,” Lily replies. You see Emilia, the conductor, visible bristle and raise her shoulders, readying a retort.

“I mean, I am,” you nonchalantly interject, stealing all the wind out of Emilia and Lily’s sails at once.

“No, you aren't” Emilia chuckles, “I’m sure that you’ve been betrothed or married to some lovely women, you’ve just forgotten about them.”

“Why do you say that?” You ask flatly.

“Well,” Emilia says, pulling a wayward hair out of the corner of her her mouth with a shaky hand, “you’re young and handsome, John, ahh I mean sir, and even though I don't see a ring on your hand I’m sure that somebody probably already has put down a mighty fine groom price on you.”

“Oh,” you say, “I mean, as far as I know my family are trying to, but they haven’t managed it yet,” you say, absently thumbing at the page of the journal again.

“Oh,” Emilia laughs nervously, avoiding your gaze, big eyes looking down into her glass, grabbing it, and taking a noticeably larger gulp of her drink than even Lily has attempted so far.

“So, like, you’re not betrothed to anybody then, hun?” Lily, the bar girl, asks with a look of deathly soberness and seriousness.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” you say.

“So there’s a chance?” Lily asks.

“A chance of what?” You reply.

“Stay there hun,” Lily grunts, downing the rest of her drink in one go, then pointing at you. “Don’t go nowhere,” she coughs and then tries to hop her butt up on the bar, but between her drink and her obvious excitement, she can’t quite manage such a dexterous move. “Shit,” she grumbles, next deciding to go jogging in slow motion on wobbly legs down to the end of the bar, then back up again towards where you and Emilia are standing. She pauses, backtracking to where a vase sits unattended at a little corner nook table in the train car, picking up the one flower in the vase, and jogging in slow motion towards you.

“Lily,” Emilia sighs and tries to grab Lily’s collar but whiffs it as Lily kneels down on one leg in front of you, grabbing Emilia’s leg for a moment for balance.

“Marry me, hun,” she states, looking up at you with dilated blue eyes and a string of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth.

“Uh,” you hazard, as she grabs your hand with her much smaller and rougher hands, pushing the flower into your grasp. On closer inspection, you can readily tell the flower is definitely made of plasticine.

“Please say yes hun, I’ll be a wonderful wife, I even got a couple of sisters too,” Lily says, tugging at your hands like a desperately affectionate child, “there’s a storage closet behind the bar where we can consummate our marriage right now.” You feel your face go red at the suggestion, a heat suddenly coming from your crotch.

“Lily,” Emilia sighs, “desperation isn’t an attractive quality.”

“Neither is being young, broke, and husbandless,” Lily spits out with venom at Emilia before turning back to you with softness in her drawl, “so hun," she says with the most saccharine smile possible, ”will you make me the happiest woman on God’s green earth tonight?”

“I―” you begin, trying to gently peel Lily’s hands off of yours to no effect. You are able to yank them out with a little bit of leverage, but only by wounding the flower in the process, leaving it bent at a three o’clock angle, “Thanks for the offer for my hand,” you say, “but I think I’ll pass for the moment.”

“I mean,” Lily says, staring straight ahead at your crotch, “if you can’t give me your hand, can you at least give me your―”

“Alright Lily,” Emilia interjects, face tomato red, grabbing her by the shoulders and picking her up and putting her down on one of the bar stools despite her kicking legs and protests.

“Sorry,” Emilia mouths at you.

“It’s fine,” you smile back, trying to be nonchalant about the air of desperation that surrounds you now.

“Here,” Emilia says, sliding another glass in front of Lily, which she begrudgingly sips at, shooting hurt looks at you all the while.

“Forget about her, she’s a lil’ drunk right now” Emilia laughs, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder and taking another sip of her drink in the process, “so next question?”

“So are either of you single?” You ask.

“Yes,” they both blurt out at the same time, Lily trying to take a step towards you and stumbling to the floor.

“Well―” you say, a little taken aback by their combined enthusiasm. “So is,” you pause trying to word your next question in a way that doesn’t sound too hurtful. “So is that unusual in these parts?”

“Ack,” Lily sounds as if struck, limping away down and around the end of the bar again.

“No not at all,” Emilia says, suddenly wobbling on her feet, face a deep blush of red, “Lots of women get to be in their thirties before finding a man to marry these days, I still have plenty of time left,” she says more to herself then to you, “it’s totally normal, it’s fine, I’m fine,” she says, ample chest heaving. “Lily, make mine a triple,” she sighs.

“Got it boss,” Lily chirps, suddenly sober sounding, as she goes about pouring herself another glass from the bottle, Emilia smacking her glass next to Lily’s, “But aren’t you supposed to be on duty.”

“Cut the crap and pour me,” Emilia snaps. Lily, for her part, shrugs, dropping a couple more ice cubes into Emilia’s cup and refills it. Then she produces another glass, fills it with ice, drops a big old dollop of liquor in it and slides it your way. You have to lunge to get it before it goes careening off the end of the bar, not aimed for you at all.

“On the house hun,” Lily says, “next question?”

“Thanks,” you say.

“Cheers,” Lily says, staring at you, holding her glass up.

“Cheers,” Emilia repeats, also staring to you, somehow more **** sounding then Lily.

“Cheers,” you say, taking a sip. It’s so dry and hard that it nearly cleans your clock on the spot, and you struggle not to let out a disgusting cough as it burns down your throat and makes your eyes water, “next question―”

OOC: If any of you have any questions that you want answered in-character, drop them in a comment