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Extra resources for Lily Marin : Three Short Steampunk Stories
His face turned red as he got lost in his words. It made Lily laugh. " "Oh, I'm sorry," the young man said as he grabbed his cap from his head. "Billy Masterson, but my friends call me William. No. They call me Billy. " His face could not get worse, Lily suspected. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Masterson. " She hoped she could cut this conversation short, as the large bag was getting heavy now. "I doubt that, Miss Marin," William, Billy for friends, said, "I am not that good a dancer. " He fumbled with his cap and showed expertise with that: whatever twitching he did, he did not drop it.
I can do without that, thank you very much," Lily said. "You have a great voice, Lily, but you lack a romantic heart," Selma stated as got up. "That kept me alive so far," Lily grinned. "And alone," said Selma as she opened the door. "It is down to me to do your dirty work, asusual. I shall have to find you a decent man, Lily. " With an overdone dramatic gesture Selma left the closet. "A decent man," Lily muttered as she continued finishing her make-up. "An angel. " Before she could mutter any further, there was another knock on the door.
After putting on the black sturdy boots, Lily opened the small cupboard that was hidden under her coat rack and disconnected the backpack. It was her pride. She strapped the pine wood case to her back; the leather padding settled itself quickly to the contours of her back like the hand of a lover. She tucked the flexible copper tube with the ruby on the end in her pocket, hooked the whip to her tool belt, grabbed the big umbrella and then she was ready. The mask was in her other pocket, she always kept it there, but she would not need that yet.