“It’s good to see you, too, Harry,” Andy said, putting her other hand across his. “But I’m afraid I’m a little busy.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Harry said, jerking her a step closer. “It’s been, what, seven years? You can’t spare the time to have a drink with ol’ Harry?” He looked her up and down. “You went and grew some tits, too, didn’t you? I bet you’d be good for a proper fuck now, what do you say? For old times’ sake. Used to be only two bits, but I bet you could charge—”

“If you don’t let go,” Andy said pleasantly, “I’m going to break your fingers.”

“Eh?” Harry’s expression changed slowly, as what she’d said worked its way into his sodden brain. “The fuck? I’m just bein’ friendly.”

“So am I. I haven’t broken anything yet.”

“Better listen, Harry,” one of the other men said. “I heard she’s one of Mad Jane’s lot.”

Harry turned around. “So fuckin’ what? Mad Jane fucked off to the wars, and good fucking riddance. Crazy bitch strutting around tellin’ everyone what to do—”

A hand landed on Harry’s shoulder. It belonged to a very large man with skin like old leather, and it gripped tight enough that Harry flinched.

“Jane will be back,” the big man said. “In the meantime, I won’t hear that kind of talk.”

Harry’s friends were suddenly all extremely interested in their drinks. Harry looked up at the newcomer, then released Andy’s wrist, looking a bit sick.

“Sorry, Walnut. Just . . . you know. Wanted to catch up with an old friend.”

Walnut gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting go, and Harry’s face went white.

“Sorry, Andy,” he said.

“It’s nothing,” Andy said, rubbing her wrist. “I came here looking for you. Can we talk?”

*   *   *

Walnut shared a table in the back of the establishment with two other men, who were introduced as George the Gut and Flopping John; the source of the former’s appellation was obvious, and Raesinia was not sure she wanted to know the origin of the latter’s. She and Andy sat across from the three, Raesinia crossing her legs underneath her to get a little more height and keep her chin above the level of the table.

“I didn’t know you were still in town,” Walnut said to Andy. “I thought you marched off to war with all the rest.”

“Marched off, got shot, spent a while in the hospital at the University,” Andy said. “By the time I was better, they’d all gone.”

“All the worse for you,” John said. “I bet the food’s better in the army. Bakers are back to filling out the bread with sawdust, and there’s a good trade in rats again.”

“I got nothing against rat,” rumbled George the Gut. “I got a recipe.”