She squinted one eye at me. “You are interesting. I would like to make you something. You need all of it.”

“All of what?” I frowned at her. “You want to fill me in?”

“Stupid men thinking they are being smart by keeping secrets. Do they not know that women are like badgers? We will find all the secrets and then share them with each other.”

Yup, I liked her already. I leaned forward.

“Right? Seriously, how long do they think they can keep us from knowing . . . stuff?” Stuff, yes, that was about as pithy as it came.

“Hold out your hands. I must measure you for this.”

I did as she asked, without knowing why, and she stepped around her table, a piece of string between her hands. She held it up to me, across my chest, around my waist, from my hip to the ground, around my neck.

“You will be good for them, I think,” the woman said. “My name is Geraldine; my friends call me Gerry. I will make your workwear for you. Boots too.” She pointed at my runners. I looked down.

“What will it cost?”

“What did they give you to spend?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Not enough.” I smiled.

She sighed. “It is never enough. But you will show them how this is done. I want it to be in my clothes. Five hundred.”

“For one outfit with boots?” That seemed cheap for something custom-made.

“I cannot go lower. And you are a fool if you think it is acceptable to cheap out on this portion of your equipment.”

I held up my hands. “Actually, I thought it was too low.”

Her lips quirked. “Excellent. Five hundred then?”

I held out my hand and we shook on it. I gave her the money even as Sarge groaned behind me. “How soon can you have it ready?” I asked.

“An hour.”

My eyes about bugged out. “An hour?”

“It will be done before you are finished shopping for the other things you need.” She shooed me away with her hands, all but pushing me down the street.

As I moved away from her, Sarge draped an arm over my shoulders, warmth flowing from him all the way through me. It was nice, until he opened his mouth. “Now that is such a typical move for a woman. Clothing? You spent a quarter of what you have on clothing. You should have spent it on weapons.”

I snorted and pushed his arm off. “Such a typical move for a man. Maybe if someone was helping me, I would have. But I like Gerry, and she’s going to do an excellent job. I have no doubt.”

He snorted. “Gerry is not your friend.”

I snorted right back at him. He wouldn’t understand how it could be between women. We had each other’s backs, especially when large, egotistical men were involved.

The next vendor I stopped at had the biggest setup in the street.