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(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)
She was playing feisty bar-maid on an asteroid whose sole purpose for existing, in her opinion, was to produce cow manure, and men who stunk of it. Under the circumstances, it was difficult to raise a stake without being caught and subject to rough frontier justice. The officer she'd seduced to allow her to escape her last botched job- damn Mal Reynolds, and double damn Inara Serra- had unexpectedly dropped her here while she still thought him well under her control. Her reluctance to share space with a corpse had worked against her this time. Dead people were disgusting, but at least they hadn't any agendas of their own.
The double doors swung open, and she looked up, adding a little sex-appeal to her expression, in the faint hope that this was a rancher flush with selling cattle, and looking for a way to lose it as quickly as possible. She played a mean game of poker, but of course, she couldn't use dumb luck and a surprised smile to get away with it too often. The smile froze on her face as a red and gold roughly humanoid robot walked into the bar. Everyone went silent, with most hands going to their guns. A voice behind the robot said, "Chill. He's my bodyguard. I want a steak and a shot, but not, you know, to get shot."
The robot moved further into the saloon, head turning from side to side, and hands upraised. It didn't have any weapons showing, but the way the palms glowed... Her acquisitive heart beat faster. What was that tech? It was like nothing she'd ever seen, even on Core Worlds. It wasn't a humanoid doll, or one of the few assassin 'bots still in existence. She smelled money.
The robot kept moving in, and the man behind it looked around the room sharply before waving at her. He wasn't dressed like a rancher, more like a working hand off a tramp freighter, but she knew none had come in. "Miss? I was told I could get a steak and something resembling whiskey here."
She nodded and moved to quickly wipe off a small table with her apron. "Yes, sir, we can do that. There's a grille in back." She paused, with her hand held out. "Ten credits, or twenty-five platinum."
"Jarvis, pay the lady," the man said, knocking on the robot's left arm. A compartment opened up, revealing a flat wad of currency. The man took some from the top without counting, and laid it on the table. "One steak. I'll know how many whiskeys I want after I taste it." The arm compartment sealed back up smoothly.
The crowd got a little restless, seeing that much money held by a robot. The man was a stranger, and wasn't armed, wasn't even a big man. She'd bet he didn't even carry a knife. She was reluctant to leave, for fear this idiot would be fleeced before she got back, but that was a good sum on the table. She swept up the money and went to the back to put the steak on to broil. Worst come to worst, she could work on whoever robbed the fool.
The steak was sizzling, and she decided to add onion slices to make it fancy, when she heard a loud crackling noise from the front, followed by a few shouts. But no shots. She returned hastily to the saloon and stood behind the barman, who was holding his shotgun loosely, as if whatever had happened was settled. The newcomer was sitting at the table. The robot was standing behind him, hands still held palms out. There was a thin line of smoldering fire across one wall. Several rifles and handguns lay on the floor in pieces. Smoothly cut pieces. Laser work. Or... something else?
She put on a smile and went to the newcomer with a bowl of bar snacks, leaning over enough to give him a glance down the neck of her dress. He noticed, and seemed appreciative, so he wasn't sly, which was useful. She could con a sly man, of course, but it took a different persona than her barmaid. "I'm Cinnamon," she said. "Anything you need, you just ask for me."
He glanced up at her. "Cinnamon?" His smile quirked up. "With your hair and eyes, you're more of a Pepper." He glanced around the bar. "Of course, if Pepper were here, this place would be a lot cleaner. And no one would put their feet on the table." He let out a sigh.
Sex works, but so does nostalgia. She straightened and put on a sympathetic expression. "Well, I'm sorry she can't be here, then. The place could use a little cleaning."
He laughed. "Oh, she wouldn't be doing the cleaning. Giving the orders, that's my Pepper. God, I miss her." The man was ridiculously soft, she could see it in every word, every fleeting expression, and particularly in the big, sad eyes. A soft heart, looking for a domineering woman? That was one of her favorite games. She sometimes allowed herself to enjoy it before collecting the loot and disappearing.
How did he survive to get this old? That robot must be extremely good. If it actually was a functional assassin, and could be duplicated... oh, that would be a big score. Just being able to show it to some of her contacts would be enough to have them send a ship for her.
"Is she gone?" she asked softly.
"No, I'm gone." He blinked up at her. "Long story. Anyway, I got a little lost, but Jarvis and I have figured out the way back. We just have to wait for... I dunno, the stars to align." His smile returned. "Sounds ridiculous, but that's about it."
She played Cinnamon for all she was worth, bringing him the steak, and their best mock whiskey, and hovering nearby to give him refills. He could drink. For a man of his size, he had a high alcohol tolerance. She could have Mickeyed him, but she didn't want him passing out in front of the crowd. She needed a little privacy to get him fully under her control. Get him off to her room, give him a dose of Doze, keep him under until she could sell off the robot. Maybe include him in the bargain, if the robot was only voice-controlled and he needed to be persuaded into transferring control. She stood there and smiled, leaving only to attend to the other customers as quickly as possible, as her mind spun webs of possibilities.
"That was good, thanks," the man said at last, pushing aside the empty plate and the last of the most recent whiskeys. "What do I owe you?"
"Nothing," she said, despite the bartender's frowning. The man had paid more than enough for what he'd eaten and drunk, but you never refused extra. "Just... could you tell me your name? You're not like anyone around here, and I'd like to remember you." She put on her best wistful look, the one that spoke of a hard life, and a faint, flickering dream of better things.
He tilted his head to one side. "Tony." He smiled. "Tony Stark."
"Tony." Even his name was soft. "I'm going off shift now." She didn't bother looking at the bartender. He'd got his cut often enough he knew to let her have her way with a drunk. "I wonder if you could see me home. At least part way." She looked rueful. "Some people get to thinking they've paid for more than a drink, you know?"
"Sure." He stood up. "I can be a gentleman." He even held his arm out for her to take, which was sweet, and convenient. During one of her trips back to take care of the steak, she'd freshened up her lipstick with Doze. All she needed was to get him to her place and give him a nice, sweet peck on the cheek in thanks.
They walked along the plank-lined frontage slowly, with the robot in the dirt street, head constantly turning as it assessed for threats. She was rapidly becoming impressed with it. It moved smoothly, and while it often raised its hands defensively, it didn't go berserk when a dog ran barking past, or a drover shouted curses at a balky mule. There was some serious discrimination going on there. She'd have to be careful not to do anything it might read as aggressive.
"This is it," she said, stopping at the small shack she'd rented at the edge of town. "Would you... would you like to come in for a few minutes?" The door obviously wouldn't accommodate the robot, which would make things easier, if Tony left it outside.
"No. No, I don't think so. I've got to be getting back to Pepper." He started to pull away. She held onto his arm.
"You are a true gentleman," she whispered, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
A metal arm swept out and knocked her back against the wall, breathless.
"Jarvis, what the hell?" Tony asked, but he didn't reach forward to help her up.
"My apologies, sir," the robot said, dryly, with a posh accent. Damn if it didn't sound more human than the best android dolls. She stared up at the robot, at the cool blue gaze behind the eye-slits. "Perhaps I ought to have allowed you to be given orally-administered narcotic. The rest would undoubtedly do you good."
"Huh." Tony shook his head. "Pity. I kinda liked you," he told her. "JARVIS, let's get out of here."
"Yes, sir," the robot replied. And then it opened up, like a Core world lobster dinner. Tony stepped back, and the robot reformed around him.
The robot spoke again, but this time it had Tony's voice. "You know. If you'd just asked me for money, I'd have given it to you. Goodbye, Cinnamon." He put his shiny metal arms at his side, put his feet together, and then... blasted off, force coming from the soles of his metal feet and his palms.
She stared up at the red and gold speck until it disappeared in the fading toward night sky. "Damn," she said, finally.