It was raining. Hell, "raining" doesn't cover it. It was wet enough to drown a mermaid out there. A pretty girl tottering through all that weather was just about the last thing I expected to see. But there she was: cold, wet, and in a funk that would silence a banshee. She barely even sees me on the cart: it's not until I stand up to my towering two feet and two inches – never forget those two inches, Sheriff – and hollar at her that she gets her bearings.