‘I don’t know if delicate is the word. The kid seems to like it there, alright, though.’

She fiddled some more with her drink, then scowled over her shoulder.

‘What’s up with the band. Is it ironic or something?’

‘I know them.’

‘They’re fucking heinous,’ she said.

‘Well, I guess that’s how they’re meant to sound.’

‘Friends of yours?’

‘Yeah,’ Arm said.

‘But you know everyone, right? Local. How could you not.’

‘I don’t,’ Arm assured her.

‘What about that guy?’ she said, pointing at Dympna.

‘He’s a buddy,’ Arm admitted.

‘I bought some stuff off him before,’ she said.

‘Hah,’ Arm said.

‘Shady character,’ she said.

Arm flagged down the bartender and ordered a round.

‘How’d you end up here?’ Arm said.

‘Here, here?’ she said. She huffed out her cheeks. ‘I should get my backstory tattooed to my fucking forehead. It’d save having to recite it every time I open my mouth.’

‘You’ve relatives this way,’ Arm ventured.

She scoffed, ‘No. No. This is virgin territory for me. I was in Dublin, in college, for a while. Then I applied for and followed down the job. I can stay for like another half a year, if the funding for the farm doesn’t get cut and my visa holds out.’

‘How’s the money?’ Arm asked.

‘I do it for the love,’ she said.

‘And what do you do if the money’s cut?’

‘What will your boy do, is the question I’d ask if I were you,’ she said. ‘Me. I’ll be fine.’ She grazed the tip of her nose with a knuckle. There was a puncture dot above one nostril, where a piercing would go. ‘The world’s a big place and you can go anywhere. And actually—’ She caught the barman’s eye and made a curt circling motion above her drink. ‘—So could you. You were born and bred right here, am I right? What’s a guy in his prime do around here?’

‘I’m retired,’ Arm said.

‘Retired. From what?’

‘I used to box.’

‘But you don’t anymore? You’re pretty young for retired.’

‘I’m old enough. You’ve to be hungry and senseless for it.’

‘And you’re not?’

‘There was a lot of conditioning, a routine you couldn’t skimp on. I lost my spring.’

‘So that’s that. You do a thing and you’re good at it, presumably, and then one day you… just… stop.’

Arm took a sip of his drink. ‘I keep in trim. I can take down a civilian no worries, but once it goes that spring never really comes back.’

‘That’s a sad story,’ she said.

Arm shrugged.

‘You’re depressing.’

‘Cheers,’ Arm said.

‘That’s okay, though,’ she said, and took a drink. Arm stood beside her because there was no reason he shouldn’t. And neither did she seek to slink away, and after a moment Arm realised she didn’t necessarily want to. He leaned in enough so she’d hear.

‘You have to want to hurt people. That’s what the spring is. You have to keep wanting to hurt people.’