"Now remember, stay close and don't do anything stupid." Paloma's grandfather says as they step off the train. "Give me the suitcases, I can carry them."

"No, your knee is bad, remember? I'll carry it." Paloma insists as she grabs both suitcases. "It's why you brought me along, I'm the strongest of the grandkids."

"And the oldest and unmarried."

"Yes thank you for reminding me of that."

"Well perhaps with some luck, maybe we can find you a nice American husband, a Catholic one of course. Perhaps a nice Irish boy from a good religious family, some of my cousins managed to have families in America, perhaps we can find one here and they can help us set you up with a nice boy."

With my luck he won't be so nice. Paloma thinks as she hoists the bags a bit higher to make it easier to carry them.

She never thought someday she'd be traveling by train with her grandfather into Missouri, for whatever reason aside from the talk of finding her a nice boy from an Irish catholic family. But the ride was exhausting, and she was finally glad to be on solid ground instead of a moving train.

"We should get food, how much do we have?" Paloma heard her grandfather ask. "You didn't lose our funds did you?"

"Nope, right here in my purse." Paloma lifts the leather satchel she had carrying the coin purse and wallet containing their money. "Never losing it."

"Good girl, now let's find a proper place to eat and I can give you another lesson in English."

Once they exited the train station, they made their way down the street before arriving at a small cafe.

"Alright we can eat here for now." The older man says as they enter before yelling something in English. A woman behind the counter yells something back before gesturing to the counter where several chairs were.

"So...what can I get?" Paloma asks her grandfather as they take a seat near a man with glasses who was reading a newspaper.

"Anything, no alcohol though." He responds.

"I don't drink."

"Good. Here, have a menu and put your English lessons to use."

Paloma accepts the thick piece of paper with whatever was listed as the meals of the cafe. She recognized the words eggs, coffee, pancakes, juice, milk, olives, waffles and that was it. She could ask for waffles, the ones on the train tasted weird but perhaps some fresh ones from here would taste more delicious.

"Umm...waffles...juice." She says hesitantly to the woman. "¿Por favor?"

The woman gave her a puzzled look at looks to her grandfather, who says something before she nods and heads into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I tried." Paloma says quietly.

"It's okay, you at least tried." Her grandfather assured her. "Just keep practicing, I'm not always going to be here to translate."

Paloma nods before reaching into the large bag they had their clothes and books in and draws out an old familiar one with a worn spine. She proceeds to read, getting lost in the story of her favorite vigilante hero who was busy exposing a bunch of corrupt rich lords.

"Will you put that book down for once? I swear out of all the grandkids, you always have your snout up a book!" Her grandfather scolds and Paloma looks up to see him frowning at her. "Some days instilling that love of reading in you kids was a mistake."

"Oh but it's at the good part! He's about to reveal his secret identity to the lady he fancies!"

"Eat your waffles first, then fawn over those two fictional characters when you are done. Your food is right there on the table."

Paloma rolls her eyes but grabs for the little cup next to her plate containing the syrup, still keeping her eyes on her book. It was getting really good now, and they were going to kiss-

"PALOMA GUADALUPE ALVAREZ!"

Paloma gives a loud yelp as she drops the cup and it falls to the floor with a loud crash. To her horror, she sees a trail of syrup leading from her overflowing waffles to some droplets on her book. She gasps and shoves the book aside, looking desperately for some napkins to clean the pages before they became too sticky, before she hears someone clear their throat.

To her right on a stool sat the man from earlier with the newspaper, who looked a bit older than her, sporting one of those fancy suits she'd seen many city dwellers dress in and holding something out to her. He says something she can't quite understand and realizes he is holding some paper napkins. The man looks a bit annoyed but he holds the napkins out to her, which she carefully took and proceeds to carefully wipe the pages and attempt to wipe the table before an older man starts cleaning up the counter with a rag.

Would be a nice time to know more proper English now. She thinks bitterly as the two men are exchanging words with her grandfather before he gently smacks the back of her head. Speaking the old Irish tongue is useless in these parts.

"Paloma, say thank you!" Her grandfather hisses before saying something in an apologetic tone.

"Uh...thank....yee?" She manages to say.

Ack this was embarrassing, now all eyes were on her and she absolutely hated it, especially since some of the cafe patrons laughed. Paloma then snatches up her book and hurries out the door of the cafe, walking a few steps away before sitting down on the sidewalk and burying her face into her knees. She hadn't even been in this city for a full day and she'd already made a fool of herself, just wonderful.

---

"Is she alright?" Mordecai hears Mitzi ask. "Your granddaughter looked quite upset."

"She gets a bit flustered easily, though probably because she doesn't speak much English." The elderly man says with a dismissive wave. "It's better to let her cool her head for a moment. She'll be back in a few minutes and in a better state of mind."

"So she can't even speak English, but you can and you're her grandfather?" Mordecai asks. "That's a bit...odd."

"Oh I originally came from Ireland when I was a lad, though I took a bit of a detour and went more south since at the time the Americans weren't too kind to us Irish folk. Met my wife during the first Mexican-American War, accidentally got her pregnant and married her to give her a proper roof over her head when her family threw her out, and we have been together ever since. I didn't think any of my kids or grandkids needed to learn English since they wouldn't be heading to America any time, so I never really bothered to teach them. They know some basics, but other than that they hardly know a word of it. We never really planned to come to America, until recently. Funny thing, they can speak Irish better than English."

"Poor thing." Mitzi sighs. "I'm sure with you teaching her, she'll pick up enough to be able to find work at least."

"Well why doesn't she work here with us, we could use an extra hand." Atlas suggests. "A young lady like her might not have too much experience working normal jobs in the city."

"Well she could easily butcher chickens, cook, clean, tend to farm animals, basic stuff many who live in the countryside can do." The old man says. "Oh, she's also good at first aid, though it's a bit crude, but she knows how to stitch wounds. She can shoot too, though she prefers using a rifle or a shotgun to a little pistol, that's probably my fault. Not sure how that can help your little cafe, unless you are prone to thieves."

"Hmm, how about cars, can she drive or fix one?"

"Sir, with all due respect, what are you doing?" Mordecai interrupts. "You're not doing what I think you're doing, are you? We hardly know these two individuals."

"Well mister...what was your name again?" Atlas asks the older man.

"Rory Alvarez, I took my wife's last name and ditched my family name when I married her." The old man responded. "It's a good name."

"Alright, mister Alvarez is in need of a job, or at least his granddaughter is, an honest job. They most likely don't have enough funds after traveling through several states by train, possibly only having enough to rent a single room in a decent boarding house and for groceries, I thought I could give them a hand." Atlas continues. "I'm basically doing them the same favor I offered you and Viktor."

And look where that landed us. Mordecai thinks as he rolls his eyes. "Fine, what do you have in mind?"

"Mmm, perhaps working in the kitchen. Sir, how quick of a learner is your granddaughter?"

"Oh she's a fast learner for many things, except learning English." Rory responds. "I'm still working on that."

"Then that settles it, she can help out in the cafe's kitchen." Mitzi says with a smile. "Perhaps with her help, the sandwiches and waffles will taste better."

"You're all too kind, I'm sure my sweet girl will be happy to know she has a job waiting for her!" The older man exclaims. "And who knows, perhaps in a month or two we can get ourselves a proper home!"

"With how expensive housing is, you're better off in a boarding house." Mordecai says as he takes his cup to sip his tea. "Though best be careful, some landlord or landladies love taking advantage of their more foreign guests."

"Trust me boy, I know better." The older man scoffs. "Not about to let some saggy stomached greedy fool take advantage of me or my granddaughter, especially my granddaughter."

The bell of the cafe rang as the door opened and in stepped the young woman from earlier, clutching the book she had been reading earlier to her chest and sat back down in her seat next to her grandfather. The older man spoke softly to her in that language from earlier as she sniffled and set her book down to wipe at her eyes frantically before grabbing her fork to start eating her meal. He wasn't exactly sure why his employer asked the elderly man if the girl knew how to work or drive cars, her hands looked a bit too delicate at a glance to repair them.

"Do you have anywhere in mind my granddaughter and I could stay at? I'm not sure if there are any cheap hotels or boarding houses around here we could afford to stay in." Rory asks. "We don't exactly have much money-"

"My place." Mordecai turns to see Viktor watching them from one of the booths where Ruby's daughter sat, scarfing down her breakfast whilst reading a magazine. "Have empty room."

"Oh Viktor, that's so kind of you!" Mitzi gushes. "You hear that Rory? And don't you worry, Viktor may look menacing and scary, but deep down he's a kind soul. Just try not to annoy him."

The older man grunts in response and goes back to sipping his coffee. Well, if this girl was going to be working here, he'd probably only have to see her in the mornings or the times he has a meal at this place. She didn't need to get tangled up in their more illegal business side, it never ends well for those who do.