The pack was already gathering when she scuttled out of the back room, twisting the ties of her muddy apron behind her. Tonton banged the keys of the register methodically, all the while smiling.
“Hi, Floyd,” she said to the customer Tonton was ringing up. “Same ole, same ole?” Without waiting for an answer, she collected Floyd’s empty tomato juice can from the scarred wooden counter and rotated to the dark corner where Tonton kept live bait.
“Pink, it’s dangerous how well you know me,” answered Floyd, making her grin. Floyd didn’t talk down to her like she was a girl, nor did he call her Rohiya.
“You hear Joe spotted a Red drakonile?” added Floyd, offering her the juicy gossip instead of telling one of the other guys. Eavesdropping on the men was how she usually got her news. The tenor
