I'll get it a try with Clova

“We should hang out still,” you tell Clova. She turns to look at her. It’s hard to read what she’s thinking.

Her face scrunches as she shakes her head. “I don’t know so, but thanks for the thought.”

You speed up and step in front of her. “Come on. I haven’t had a good tour of Deadwood yet. You could show me around, couldn’t you?”

Clova’s smile is ****. You walk backward as you look at her for a reply. Reluctantly, she agrees to take you around. When you thank her, the tightness in her smile falters. Your eyes lock, and she yawns. “Don’t trip.”

You trip and fall on the ground. Clova looks at you with her eyes narrowing and her brows furrowed, as does her best, stifling a laugh.

After standing back up, you spit and curse. Smooth.

Back at the hotel, you both take your separate ways. Clova tells you she’ll find you when she’s ready; in the meantime, she hands you her pistol and tells you to get familiar with the guns. Strip them, clean them, and then put them back together. You do as you're told.

…

…

The smell of gun cleaner and oil filtered it into your nose as you leaned back into the couch. You blinked and then yawned. The sky was blue, and the sun was peeking over the mountains now. The frosty air gave way to the sun’s warmth and left, for the time being, giving everything a lively look to it. You yawned again and smacked your lips. Clova should be back soon…

“Warren,” a woman’s voice said. “Wake up.”

You opened your eyes and looked behind you. It’s Clova dressed the same as she was this morning, but now with sunglasses hanging from her shirt collar and a baseball cap. Her raven hair tied back two tiny pigtails. “Lez’ go.”

“Oh, right.” You got up and craned your neck.

“Did you clean my gun?” She asks, gesturing for it on the table.

“Of course,” you tell her. Plucking it off the table and handing it to her, as well as the hollow-tipped bullet-loaded magazine. “For your pleasure.”

Clova looks at you and loads her gun before tucking it into the small of her back. “Bring yours too.”

“Are we expecting a fight in town?”

She shrugs with a tiny smirk. “Better to have it and not need it than the other way around.”

“Fair enough,” you say. Taking your all-metal pistol and inserting the extended magazine into it. Chambered and safe.

Minutes later, you’re side-to-side with Clova, exploring Deadwood and everything it has to offer. The big town is filled with Japanese and RTE personal right now, which the locals constantly try to bribe with deals. No one is safe from the offers, not even you and Clova. Every store you pass, someone is standing at the door, trying to get you both inside to browse their wares.

Clova sometimes entertains them for a few seconds but closes the converse with a lie like “we’re getting out money, be right back!” or “I’ll bring my friends and come right back!”

Deadwood, for the most part, is like any other trade town this time of year. It’s supposed to be asleep and getting ready for the brunt of winter, but with all of these dancers and PMC’s around, it’s still awake and trying to make a sale.

There are also orders still coming in for food. But, with the population swelled with all its new company, there’s a more significant struggle to keep everyone fed and healthy.

The local government is taking full advantage of the money that could be made here, though.

You get to the opposite side of the town, where the rear wall and gate stand. The landscape is different than how it was early in the morning. Lots of the snow had melted. The roads are clear, and the forest is quiet. The sky above is bright blue and cloudless. You both stand at the gate continue to talk while you stare into the world beyond the walls.

“So,” Clova swallows. “That’s Deadwood for you. Dad used to gamble, but I never got around to try it.”

“Have you thought about giving it a try?”

“Gambling is what got my daddy shot and killed. So, not really.”

“Oh,” you blushed, wishing you hadn’t mentioned it. You look over at Clova and notice she doesn’t seem fazed by the admission. “You are you folks, were you close?”

“Yeah, when he got killed, it tore me apart. Mama didn’t like it much either, but she took it better than I did. She never remarried, and she took good care of me. I’m sure she’s still home with the cattle and staff. Wishing me well.” Clova sighs and takes off her cap. “I bet she’d like it if I swung around and revisited her. It’s been over a year now since we’ve last seen each other.”

“Have plans doing that next year? I’d love to help you get back to your kin. Free of charge.” You offer.

She darts her eyes at you and then rolls them. “Warren, I don’t plan for anything more than a month out. I could be dead or disabled by the end of this year, for all I know. Making plans like that would hurt more than what kills me if I wasn’t able to complete them.”

“Oh,” is all you can squirt out. Some awkwardness builds until you break it. “Well, what are your plans for the month?”

Clova shrugs and leans against the gate, peering further out as if spotting something. “Make new friends. Drink more coffee. Build a snowman.”

“What a list,” you sarcastically remark and then continue. “At this point, am I a friend to you? We've been training, talking, and drinking coffee together non-stop for a full week.”

Her eyes go to yours. Her smile is as lifeless as hers, but you suppose it’s nice to see her trying. “You ain’t shit, Warren.”

The way she said it, you couldn’t tell if it was meant as a compliment or insult. So you thank her and tell her the same.

Her smile warms to a more generous one. “Sorry for yelling at you this morning. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You need to vent. I was glad to be there for that.”

“I…I’ve lost so many friends this year and have seen some pretty fucked up shit. I think I’m going crazy sometimes, and the nightmares I have every night are…so bad.” Clova reaches for a wire-peeping hole and grips it. “There was a guy I really liked that we recruited back in Garfield. The day I opened myself up to him, he got snatched up by some bandits for ransom.”

She takes a deep breath in and shakes her head. “God damnit. Goddammit, all to hell. A few others went into pursuit, and I went with them, of course. When we made it to their camp, we didn’t try talking or anything, just violently. It took too long to get him. Found his body half-naked and all shot to shit.”

Clova brushes back her hair and sucks it on her lip as she recalls the memory. “That was a bad day. And it just continued to go downhill from there.”

“I’m not gonna tell you that I know what it’s like, but you do have my condolences for your losses.” You follow her gaze outside the gate. “I won’t make any promises, but if I do end up dying somehow, don’t take any blame for it.”

Clova doesn’t say anything, granting you a chance to continue.

“I’ll be sure to give you any kind of support too. In and outside of missions, don’t feel like you’re pestering me with anything on your mind.”

Clova exhaled so loudly it sounded like she was holding her breath. “Thanks.” She turned her wrist and looked at her cracked watch. And pretends nothing happened and pushes away from the gate, telling you it is time to get back to the hotel.

The rest of the day is spent indoors. Clova spent some time inside, too but disappeared after you took a shower.

You briefly run into McKinley during dinner. He asks about how your time with Clova has been going. You keep the personal stuff to yourself and tell him it’s been all right. Sasha, McKinley’s wife, tries to interject too. She mentions the background of the WRP and the recent history, which captures your interest but is quickly shut down by Kevlokk, who was simply passing by.

“Don’t bug the dude with history, Sasha.” His voice is stern. “Don’t want to give him cold feet 2 days before command sends them off to do something.”

Sasha looks at you and wiggles her brows. “Warren could bring luck.” Her smile seems friendly enough and is assured by a McKinley.

Kevlokk remains stern, however. “Don’t scare him off. Seriously, guys.”

McKinley nods. “Sure. We won’t do anything like that.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Sasha chimes, averting her gaze to her husband now. "You weren’t here for the last WRP operation, were you?"

Kevlokk shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Sasha…” he warns.

Sasha looks down at her plate, no longer finding it appetizing. She pushes it away and clears her throat. She opens her mouth as if to say something but briefly looks at you. “I’ll tell you later tonight.”

Kevlokk looks around and then leans into the table. “Keep your mouths shut. Clova needs Warren. If she hasn’t said anything, it’s for a reason.”

When he walks away, all the joy goes with him. The air is heavy and mood and downcast. McKinley breaks it relatively quickly, and his wife follows. Your mind is split between the conversation the table is having and wondering what happened to the WRP.

Later that night, you’re on the couch tinkering and listening to something on the radio, now tuned to the local station. Some piano music is playing. The door to the suite opens, and Clova stumbles in, looking the same as she did when you both walked around Deadwood.

You greet her, and she greets you as she undoes her boots and kicks them off.

“See you Monday,” she says and retreats to her room and shuts the door before you can say or do anything else.

A few hours pass and you go to your room and quickly fall asleep to the sound of white noise filling the darkroom.

You aren’t sure how long you’re asleep, but you wake the noise of someone stirring in the living room. You figure it must be morning, or at least getting to that point because when you look out your window, you see the painted sky with its mixed shades of blue and distant pink horizon. Half-reluctantly, you roll yourself out from your sheets and open your door.

Clova is moving around, dressed to go outside in the issued field gray uniform. You know if you hurry, you could probably follow her when she leaves…Or, you could just catch up on sleep. It might be your last chance.