She holds out her hand, forgoing any mention of her moniker—Kissin' Kate Barlow—or anything else that'd give her away as an outlaw. She smiles, just as sweet as pie.
"S'a pleasure t'make your acquaintance, Miss Santiago. You ain't got nothin' to fear from me here."
And, she hopes, the same can be said in return.
"What d'you think you'll tell people when you get back home? About the ship, that is."
She points at Amy's stack of Polaroids. She imagines half the reason for taking them is to have some sorta proof to carry back home with her.
no subject
"Miss Kate Barlow."
She holds out her hand, forgoing any mention of her moniker—Kissin' Kate Barlow—or anything else that'd give her away as an outlaw. She smiles, just as sweet as pie.
"S'a pleasure t'make your acquaintance, Miss Santiago. You ain't got nothin' to fear from me here."
And, she hopes, the same can be said in return.
"What d'you think you'll tell people when you get back home? About the ship, that is."
She points at Amy's stack of Polaroids. She imagines half the reason for taking them is to have some sorta proof to carry back home with her.