FF: (The Lover and the Fighter)

Fandom: GLTAS

Summary: The second day of Razaya week 2013 with the prompt of: Alternate Universe, I happened to choose a Old South-Western setting.

"Morning Miss Aya," Hal Jordan tipped his hat at the young lady approaching the Sheriff's place. "'Tis a mighty fine morning for such a pretty young lady such as yourself to be out on business." The man held his hand out to help the girl up the wooden walk. "There anything I can do for you?" The female smiled while shaking her head.

"It's never too early for man's business, you ought to know that."

"But Miss Aya," the deputy countered, "You ain't no man."

"True," the lass walked over to the swinging doors to her right. "Then again Mr. Jordan- I'm not that much of an ordinary gal." The cowboy laughed, his holster shaking as he did.

"Aww, shucks, Miss Aya. A woman like you is fine as cream gravy."

"We'll I'm glad someone in this town thinks that way. Sheriff Appa is sure down on me- thinks I'm a hard case," the girl untied her bonnet revealing her ghostly white hair color. The cowboy hardened his gaze.

"Ignore the old stiff- jus' a flannel mouth hell bent on kicking up a row. Tell you what- he gives you any trouble you jus' holler, and I'll come there directly." The female bobbed her head.

"Thank you Deputy Jordan- it was well seeing you."

"You's as well Miss."

Standing up straight the female walked up to the Sheriff's desk. The white-haired girl cleared her throat, "Sheriff Appa- I wish to request a handful of your officers to escort me in my quest for the Manhunter Marauders." The girl pulled a satchel out from behind her layered skirt. Sheriff Appa stood up abruptly.

"I don't have time for your far-fetched ideals Miss Aya. I'd keep my inheritance locked up tight if I were you, and I certainly wouldn't be bringing it with me on a quest for rotten, no-good thieves." He strode past her pulling out his gun. "I've got bigger things to deal with than the likes of you."

Just as the Sheriff finished his sentence- a rowdy boy was dragged into the building. His face was red and flustered, but the most intriguing thing about him was his hair. It was a beautiful, luminescent white that looked as out of place as the individualistic girl felt. She simply stared in curiosity at the scene playing out in front of her. Noticing her gaze, the heavier set of the officers holding the outlaw roared.

"Hey there Missy," his voice was deep and rough, "Heard you been looking for the Manhunter Marauders," he twisted the culprits arm backwards before throwing him into the iron wrought cell. "Turns out this fella's looking for 'em too. Keep it up and you may just end up like this."

"What'er you lookin at?" The prisoner snapped at the girl in front of him. It was worse enough that his fellas fed him to the wolves, but then some broad had to hang round staring at him. She had long disrobed from her formal attire in exchange for some old cowhide riding boots. On her waist rested a secure belt and holster to what seemed to be the most infuriating thing this vigilante ever saw. She simply had one pistol and no visible spare ammunition. When he asked her of it earlier she told him that she "didn't miss". Like that could've been true. His patience grew even thinner before the crook snapped again. "What're you lookin at!?" The female didn't even bat an eye.

"That depends on the fact whether or not you'd be willing to help me." The inmate shook his head.

"I've no reason to help you, and there ain't no way I could get outta this cell to do it. You's even more foolish than I thought." This time it was the girl who sneered.

"What you care to do and not to do is irrelevant. It's just your answer dictates whether or not you're as lowly as you seem." The girl went to fetch the cell key off of Sheriff Appa's desk. "You will help me." In confusion the boy's tone became that of a harsh whisper.

"Are you insane? That rip could be back here any second!" She opened the iron wrought door.

"Then we better get a move on."