ROBCO EVENT LOG V2.66
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Stockton Stockton is sitting at his desk with his hat on the side of the table. It's not an armored day, which means he's not roaming much. Probably headed to Shanty Town later to do his mining. A cigarillo rests between his jaws and he chews on it slightly. Puff puffing away at the cigar as he fills out paperwork. Yes it's part of the job, and no he hasn't found a deputy to do the damn thing for him yet. He's working on it.
Elsie It's a redheaded woman that comes in today, looking slightly flushed in her pale cheeks. Perhaps not so odd, though; most people who likely come into the Sheriff's office are flustered. Either getting arrested, bailing out loved ones, or worse. Probably not a whole lot of happy times, here. The redhead wears a pinstripe black-and-white skirt with a long-sleeve white blouse that has a high Mandarin collar and a low v-neck. Her black combat chest piece doubles as a corset, and she often sports a brown belt with matching holster. Black boots cover her feet.

She steps deeper into the space with little hesitation though, her feet carrying her to the edge of a desk with a hat perched on it and a man sitting behind it. Her big hazel eyes settle on him. "You a lawman, sir?" she asks. "I'm looking for a lawman." The words, the phrasing, might seem similar to another woman who came in some weeks back looking for just such a person....
Stockton Stockton is slightly distracted, but by no means unaware. At the presence of someone who wasn't a deputy, or a convict, or a weeping widow, he is slightly baffled. The pen he's working with is set down and he happily looks up from his work so that he can be distracted by a pretty redhead. "Afternoon, ma'am, yes'm, I would be the area's Marshal, what can I do for yah?" he asks curiously. Of course, there's that hint of a vibe of familiarity, but it doesn't last long enough. The new clothing, new armor, pip-boy, hair, eyes. The works, it's all changed up. So Stockton is simply left with a pleasant smile that he'd give to anyone.
Elsie "Elsie Bell," formerly-Surelda introduces herself, moving to take a seat across the desk from Stockton in a gesture that is perhaps too easy, too familiar. If he's looking for such things. "This might be an odd thing, sir, but I've been made to understand that the lawmen of the Federation could benefit from a bit of .... organization," she says with a slight, playful smirk on her features. "And as it happens, that's rather what I do. Course, I ain't gonna talk about where I've done what in the past, suffice to say that I've been told..." she muses for a moment, and those hazel eyes glint brightly in his direction. "...that I've got a face for radio."
Stockton Stockton mutters the name after he's given it, letting it roll off the tongue lightly, "Elsie Bell," he doesn't get any connections off the top, and while he's aware and watching. He isn't getting the jist until much later. "Well s'true, we got a good handle on the local situation, it's the settlements and outlying sheriff departments and Marshals," he explains before crossing his arms over his chest and squinting some. "They done told yah that? They were blind," he smirks some, but he's gotten the hint and is reaching into the desk to pull out a form. "You wanna get deputized and start fixin' up the organization 'tween Lawmen, I'm all for it. Don' care where yah been, just that you can do the job yer applyin' for." With that he looks down at the form and fills in a few things, "Alrigh', basically this states that you'll do yer damndest to represent the law and uphold it in your presence. Jus' put yer signature there at the bottom line and we'll git you started. Need all the help we can get," he mutters.
Elsie "Oh," Elsie says, softly, as the form is put out in front of her. It's a good thing he explains it; she can barely read and write, our old Sully. She leans forward and peers with those new eyes, ones that seems softer and more down-to-earth than those big, mysterious black ones she used to sport. Her scent, however? That's the same, and he might pick up a touch of it as she leans forward. "Well, ya got one of these that doesn't make me a deputy, but will still let me get ya'll set up properly with your radios? I been some places and done some things, Marshall. But I'm no deputy."

Marshall. If her other hints hadn't already landed, perhaps the familiar cadence around that title might.
Stockton If it wasn't one of the other dozen and a half hints, it's that one. The way she says his name all too familiar and it takes a serious effort to contain the broad and toothsome smile. Now he recognizes the frame, if not the shapework ontop now. "Fraid that ain't how it works, you'll be alright though, communications engineer. It's a legit position, still gives you access to the armory," he thumbs behind him and then just scribbles something on the paper. "Congratulations, Elsie Bell," he grins a bit at her, "Yer one of us," he puffs on his cigar and then promptly settles the paperwork up with a deputy. "Yer gonna do alright here, I can just feel it," he tells her with all the confidence in the world.
Elsie He might want to grin. She's not so sure. As the paper is taken with her chicken-scrawl on it, she just blinks. "Well," the redhead says, thoughtfully. "I suppose if that's how ya gotta hire me. But just ... don't treat me like a deputy, or give me any deputy jobs, or anything like that. Please? I'm no deputy; I'm no lawman. I just mean to earn my way by fixing up your radios, at a fair rate of anyone else who could do the job same as me, and less of that than someone better. Lord knows there's plenty that could faster and better, but I'll get it done for you alright." She nods at that.
Stockton Stockton nods firmly, "Besides, once yer officially on the docket, you can get the same pay and protections," it being that last word that he puts the emphasis on. "Sure, there's plenty that could, but there's only you that's doin'. You may not be makin' the arrests, but you'll be helpin' us along all the same. Don'tchu worry," he takes back the noted paperwork and files it away in a drawer for official document's sake. Now the woman who was most definitely not Surelda was a member of the Law of El Dorado. Fancy that. He's already reaching across to take her hand up in a firm and affirmative shake. Course it might linger a little long, rough ringers touching at the inside of her wrist, unseen by the few deputies in the room.
Elsie "Oh," she says, softly but with a touch of knowing to it. She sees the hand offered and stares at it for a moment, apparently unsure as to its purpose. But then her eyes widen a big bigger. "Oh," she says again, this time with deeper understanding. Right. Handshake. She offers her own slender palm to his, blushing slightly. It must be that shaking hands feels silly to a woman like her. Or perhaps it's that lingering finger brushing across the inside of her wrist. Really, who can say, but when Stockton releases her, she'll release him in return. "I suppose I oughta get out of your hair then, Marshal. But I can come around ... I suppose tomorrow to start looking over your setup to determine what you might need?"
Stockton Stockton does manage to release her hand before it becomes a matter of too-long. Reaching up to grab his stubby cigarillo, he stamps it out into the ashtray beside him to snuff its life. Exhaling a slow spilling font of smoke, from nose and mouth, he snorts at the last and then nods his head, "You'n I are gonna see a lot of each other, we have a lot to talk about," he assures her. "Besides, you gotta get tah know me as yer new boss of sorts," he chuckles and puts both hands on the desk and pushes himself up to his feet. "You ever been in a mine, Elle?" He shortens her name to something that purrs on his tongue rather too easily, the bastard.
Elsie A mine? "I," Elsie begins, but then she just exhales a chuckle through her nose and shakes her head, glancing down to hide her deepening blush. "Just once, Marshal," she explains. "But I don't think it's quite what you'd call an average experience. The whole thing was rather rough," she admits with a single shouldered shrug. She can't help but glance around as she makes the gesture, as if to see if their not-so-subtle flirting has been noticed by anyone else around. "Is their mining involved in being a not-deputy, sir?" He hates sirs. She throws it in with a look of mischeif just to tighten her own screws on him, just a bit.
Stockton Stockton scoffs a little bit at seeing her blush spread, he knew it would and he's being kind of a jerk. "Mines're known to be kinda dangerous, easily turn into a rough ride if yer not careful, seen'n heard a few cave-ins," he shrugs slightly and gathers his hat and his pack, a sledgehammer tied to the side of it. "Well I gotta swing by my claim, you may as well come along," he notes, "Get used to the routes I take, case yah need anythin," he ammends as a deputy glances over, not familiar with this particular ritual. Just like that, he's putting his hat on and pushing outside, no time for pleasantries.
Elsie Surelda-Turned-Elsie opens her mouth and closes it a few times as Stockton just breezes out, telling her to come along with him ... to his mine. She's left standing by the desk, looking around at the others who seem to have picked up on ... something. She watches them a moment, and then smiles broadly. "Nice to meet you all," the woman says, before she's turning to hurry out the door after Stockton and his bloody long strides.