The band had already transitioned into a dance number. Muffled percussion and guitar rose through the floor.
"Classy", Valentine said. He dumped the singer on the bed.
"Fucker!" she protested. "You could ask a..."
"I will", Valentine said. "What's your name?"
She sat up and kicked off her sandals. "Gide. Be careful with my face, okay? Rough stuff will mess up the makeup". She took off the bikini top. "I know it's traditional to keep the pants as a souvenir, but these were..."
"Gide, you can keep them on". Valentine sat in the chair. "I just want to talk".
She flopped back against the wall, extracted a hand-rolled from her hairdo. "What, like dirty?"
"No. One of those songs, the one about the attic, it struck me as odd. Aren't you afraid of saying stuff like that?"
"Got a light?"
"I don't smoke".
"Shit". She felt around under the mattress, peeked under the bed. "They sneak in condoms all the time, but can they leave a match? Dream deferred". She reattached the cigarette, or joint, to a hairpin and put it back in her tangle of hair.
"You wrote that song?"
"Yeah. You hot shits could use a bite of reality. It got a response, you saw".
"What's a purification?" Valentine asked.
Some of the hard edge came off. "It's... it's not my place".
"Please. I'm new here. Call me Max, if you like. I brought in Wing Leader Hornbreed. I'm wondering if I should grab my reward and run while the getting's good".
"You got your gold yet?"
"Working on it. I'm trading most of it for a trip far away".
"Purification's head-count reduction", she said. "Lotta times it makes no sense, who gets chosen".
"Who does it, Churchmen?" Valentine asked.
"Yeah, the church handles it".
"Ever worry that your songs might get you purified?"
"Fuck no. I think they like having me around. They need a place for the zips to let off a little steam. The Mezcal's sort of cathartic".
"Sort of what?" Valentine asked.
"Catharsis. Healthy elimination of emotion. Like a big bawlin' shit into the toilet of life".
"Singer and philosopher".
"My old man was a cowhand, but that doesn't mean he was dumb. Always had a book or two tucked away and he read to me a lot. I grew up in the saddle with a rifle instead of a doll. Killed a mountain lion when I was eight".
"If you can shoot, why didn't you join the service?" Valentine studied her tattoos. The snakes were posed differently. The left arm seemed to be striking; the right wrapped itself protectively around her upper arm and watched the world from the soft spot on her forearm.
"I'd be tempted to pull the trigger with the gun pointed the other way. How far away from here are you going?"
"About a thousand miles north".