Feeling obligated to spend time with Timmons since he'd been out all night with Avery, Reed accompanied his other young friend on his day off. Tomorrow, Reed would be cleared to get back to light training. He honestly was looking forward to it. There was only so much reading he could stomach when he had two working legs. The day was overcast and threatening freezing rain. It reminded Reed of December weather in middle Alabama. He didn't like it and needed a distraction.

"You came in real late last night," Timmons grumbled. "You know I stayed up worried about you?"

"Like hell you did." Reed snorted. "You were snoring when I came in the window."

"It's stressful as fuck trying to cover for your ass!"

"Then don't," Reed shrugged. He caught sight of a Han nearby, eyeing him, but not in that "Go to hell" way they usually did. The young woman's eyes darted down. She didn't immediately leave the area either. While it wasn't a full turnaround from their usual attitude, it was markedly less frosty. Maybe that priest might be willing to keep buying bags of biscuits? Reed certainly couldn't afford to do it every day. Unable to help it, Reed looked away to chuckle.

"What're you laughing about?" Timmons groused.

"Nothin. Just that I'm probably going to be very poor from now on."

"Poor?" Timmons lifted his brows, looking at Reed. "How much whisky did you buy last night?"

"If I could find someone to sell me bottles, I'd be able to save some money that way," Reed mused.

"You just wanna put M'boyo out of business," Timmons laughed. "What're you gonna spend the rest of your money on, then?"

"The ladies that are gonna start throwing themselves at me," Reed grinned.

His companion stared at him. "Bull shit. They avoid you like you've got the plague."

"Wanna bet?" Reed challenged. "I bet I can get that young woman over there to come give me a hug." He pointed at the Hannish woman. She froze.

"She looks scared." Timmons shook his head.

"Ten shang," Reed said.

"Fine. Ten," Timmons agreed and shook on it.

Reed looked at the young woman, hoping he wasn't wrong. He gave her a friendly grin and quirked his fingers in a c'mear motion.

She hesitated, arms folded, but after a moment more, she approached.

"My friend thinks you won't hug me," Reed said.

Timmons shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You're cursed, Reed. Gonna die alone. Durrish women can't stand you, and Hannish ones act like you've got plague. I'll invite you to my wedding, though. Maybe Nyltia will bless your hand--."

"Ifiri's Beard," the Hannish woman muttered under her breath as she listened to Timmons. Reed saw a spark of pride enter her eyes. She looked up at Reed. He opened his arms. With that permission, she stepped in and put her arms around him. She was careful to keep her hands off his back, though. She flinched slightly when he returned her embrace.

"Well, well, Timmons. Looks like you owe me," Reed teased, grinning.

"Son of a bitch," Timmons said in defeat. He took out his purse, counted the coins, and handed them over as the woman stepped back.

Reed caught her hand and gave her the coins. "Thanks," he said cheerily.

"Wh--That--" Timmons sputtered. "You can't do that!"

"Why not? Was my money." Reed lifted his hands in a shrug.

"You dick."

Reed rotated his hand from his shrug to give Timmons a bird.

The woman gasped. "Amro! Whoever raised you should be ashamed!" she rattled in Hannish.

Reed turned to her with a hand over his heart. "Wolves, miss. Have some pity, they did their best. At least I don't run on all fours and bark anymore."

She clutched the handful of coins, face screwed in anger. "Miscreant." She stomped away.

Timmons roared with laughter. "Did she insult your mother?"

"About sums it up."

"How'd you get her to do that, though? They were spitting at you yesterday?" Timmons asked, shaking his head.

Dropping an arm around Timmons' shoulders, Reed said, "I'm gonna let you in on a secret that will get you more attention from women than you'll ever know what to do with. It's just three easy steps."

Timmons was immediately interested, even though he tried to look aloof.

"First." He lifted his index finger, even though he knew Durs used their thumb to count first. It had never felt natural to him, though. "You gotta be nice. Don't talk down to them. Let them know you find them interesting. Ladies love that shit."

Nodding, as if he were mentally taking notes, Timmons stared at him.

"Second. Treat them to something. Dinner, a walk in the park, new clothes."

"What? All of that?"

"Not all at once. Just something nice," Reed assured as they walked, ending up at a stall selling apples. He let go of his friend to select an apple. The stall owner was now listening to the conversation as Reed picked one and tossed a half-shang to the man.

"Third. And if you forget everything else I've just said, remember this one. Because it's most important."

Timmons looked up from selecting an apple.

"It's two simple words, and I want you to take them in the dirtiest way possible." Reed grinned. "Ladies. First." He bit into the apple. The young man running the stall stared in confusion.

"Woah. Wait, you can't just drop that on me without explanation!" Timmons objected. "And where did you learn all this anyway?"

"Bro," Reed chuckled wetly around his bite of apple. "I already told you the secret to a happy marriage, and you're demanding more? No sir! Your greed will not be rewarded!"

"You are, as always, full of shit," Timmons said, paying for his apple.

***

Jamila clutched the ten shang in a shaking fist.

Ten. Shang. For hugging that Amro. She hurried to the stall she'd passed because she didn't have the money to buy what she needed. Going into the dirty shop, she selected her items and dropped the shang on the counter.

The stall owner stared, counted the shang, counted Jamila's items, then waved her out.

Quickly leaving, Jamila tucked the remaining two shang into her pocket. Amro understood Hannish but chose to speak Durrish for his response. Odd, but then, he was in the company of a Dur he seemed to be on friendly terms with. She also couldn't be too mad at him for using Ifri's Sword on that insolent Dur. His comments about Amro's marriage prospects were uncalled for. Though given the playfulness behind the exchange, Jamila could tell they were friends. Which made it worse that he'd shown his friend such a vulgar gesture.

That boy was cunning, though. The request for a simple hug was a plot. There was scheming behind those bright eyes and handsome face. Jamila wasn't sure what he was up to, but he'd fleeced that Dur out of ten shang with his trick, and she'd benefited.

"Wolves," she muttered under her breath. "Wolves would have better manners, I'm sure."

No, he was raised by coyotes; scheming, tricky creatures with disarming smiles.

She didn't trust him. A coyote could wag its tail like a dog, but would steal chickens as soon as you let it out of your sight.

Whose chickens is he going to steal?

Reaching the riverbank, she approached the women watching the children playing in the cold mud on the side of the road. That mud would be fully frozen by the end of the week. By then, the river would have receded, allowing them to set up their tents on the bank again. There were patches of ice on the roads already. Jamilla was very careful walking. She couldn't afford to slip and miss work.

Because of Amro's generosity, though, the children would get fed two days in a row. What had made him come with that bag of biscuits the night before? He'd certainly made a show of inspecting them before leaving. Of course, she and Fatima had inspected them again to make sure.

"What's this?" Fila asked as Jamila started pulling the fruits out of her basket, handing them to the children. Since Fila mostly worked in the evenings, she was free to watch the children during the day. Though she made money, her work often produced more children to look after.

"I saw Amro in the market," Jamila said. "He gave me ten shang for hugging him. Some kind of bet with his friend."

Fila laughed in surprise.

"Would Amro give me money for a hug?" one of the children asked.

"Layla, no. That's not something you should do," Jamila said sternly. "He's scheming something," she added to Fila.

"If he's scheming and we benefit, then why not take what he's giving?" Fila retorted, taking a fruit to start cutting into pieces. The children, seeing that there was food to be had, hurried over, dragging their soulless playmates with them. They'd lost five in the latest riverbank flooding. The others had been adults trying to get the children to safety and had gotten swept away instead.

"What if he's one of the ones who sold you here?" Jamilla retorted. She handed out pieces of fruit from the one she'd finished cutting. The happy children took seats on the ground nearby to eat, their dirty hands getting dirtier from the juices.

"He's barely a man," Fila retorted, cutting one of the fruits into pieces. "I got here ten years ago."

"Are you going to approach him then?" Jamilla asked with a side eye.

"Not yet," Fila said, handing a piece of fruit out. "Though shunning him seems cruel. He's only done good things for us since arriving here. And expecting him to have any power to fix our situation in this Ifri damned land is unreasonable."