_"Argh, nice arse says I wi' a curse an' that," mutters our dwarfen beauty to herself as she watches Nathan shake his booty and turn the rough corner of the building, out of sight.
Tucking away the bucket of whipped cream, and patting her cat o' nine tails fondly, she turns and makes her way back down the alley. Seeing as the crowd as dispersed, and on account of Drelan's consistant suggestions that she may be a touch on the raw side of reeking, Mercy slings her gear about her, scratches at her arse for luck and makes swaggering sailor like into the general shop, makes a purchase of some cheap soap, a hog brush and a ham hock for the road. Tucking the ablutive item 'twixt her bosom, she recalls that the Rawlins has a nice deep lake for soaking her hide in.
Stomping through the snow, leering jovially and smacking her lips as she finishes munching at the hock with her yellow pegs of teeth, she finds herself at the edge of the water, reflecting her not insignificant figure.
With a belch and a hurried peeling of garments, as well as a quick glance about for any peeping tom's, as well as a long winded sigh for the lack of said perverts, Mercy strips, slapping her bosoms for luck, and with soap in hand dives like a dispraxic hippo into the water. Chilly, but a paciderm by nature, Mercy continues to scrub at her extermities with the hog brush. Little does she notice, as a slick layer of filth begins to drift atop the water around her, that Nathan is returning from his jaunt about the Rawlins. She doesn't hear the crisp clatter of footsteps on snow, drowned out by her shanty…_
