( dutch doesn't like the cold. she's never liked the cold, but now it brings back memories she'd rather forget — of the extremists getting the drop on her, of hypothermia and anger and the vision of johnny dying, of being naked in the cold, being doused in freezing water, of no longer being able to breath.

dutch doesn't like the cold, but she's damn well going to continue moving, angry determination in the set of her shoulder and her jaw. anger is good fuel; always has been, for her. ) Hells ( she might be heard muttering, now and again during the trek.

in the evenings, when it grows too dark to continue through the storm, she sits a little too close by whatever fire anyone might have managed to light in this godforsaken weather, still buried deep in furs.

someone offering her a drink or to warm her up might just get her out of this funk, but until such time, she'll just stare into the flames. )

( she's been thinking it a lot, really, between the wristlets and the earrings, the general level of technology here, but when she sees the small-sized robotic pets in paws about town, she thinks it out loud.

as in, the earring sends the thought - out loud - to all those in the vicinity: ) Johnny'd cream his pants if he saw all this.

( once she notices anyone looking at her, she just gives a shrug and a smirk. it's true. her best friend would cream his pants. he has a boner for all this stuff. she loves him anyway. )

( dutch doesn't really care for the sport, but she cares about having an alcoholic drink in front of her and a decent way to spend an evening that isn't thinking about the cold or about any of the million other things she could be thinking about and really rather wouldn't.

so of course, she's found the cantina and of course, she's betting.

if she wins a wager, her dares run from the harmless ("down that drink in one go") to the same kind of suggestive the natives seem to enjoy —and she has a good eye for who might be attracted to whom, so she might just dare you not to kiss whoever you find the most attractive but who she thinks you're into. 9 out of 10 times, she's probably right.

that, or she might challenge someone to a spar right there in the cantina. gets the blood moving, after all.

if she loses a wager, she'll do whatever is asked of her unless it's completely unreasonable and involves going out in the cold, so the odds aren't too bad that you have one (1) woman clad in leather walk toward you, the sway of her hips and the gleam in her eyes betraying her intention before she leans in, clasping your face in both hands and kissing you square on the mouth. lingering a little, possibly. )

( anything you'd rather do? hit me up @ abiosis for a personalised starter or just write your own, i'm good with it all )