Celeste was halfway done with her cigarillo when out came Hypatia, her curls in disarray and a wide smile on her generous mouth. She swiped blood from the corner of her lips, leaving a crimson trail across one cheek.

“How goes it?” Celeste asked, eyes askance on the blood.

Hypatia laughed. “Invigorating!”

Hypatia claimed she was the descendant of the eponymous Alexandrian philosopher and mathematician, but everyone knew her name was Mary and that she hailed from the middle of the continent. Times like these, when her guard was down, Celeste could hear the prairie in her voice.

“And the man?”

She turned a baleful eye to Celeste. “You mean the one you stabbed?”

“That’s the one,” she said, flat as pan water.

“What did I tell you about that, Celeste?”

“Not to do it, but you didn’t hear him, Hyp. He was disrespecting Mariel.”

“Mariel’s a grown woman and can defend herself. She doesn’t need you stepping in to maim a man for every little slight.”

“She wasn’t there to defend herself, so I did it.” Celeste paused. “Maim? So he’ll live?”

Hypatia sighed gustily. “He’ll live, but you better hope he doesn’t bring the law down on us.” She leaned over, palm open to Celeste. In her hand was Celeste’s dagger. “You’ve got to think before you do these things.”

Celeste took the blade and fitted it back into her trick holster. “And if I said I was sorry?”

“It’d be a start, assuming you meant it.”

Celeste was quiet. Hypatia grunted. “That’s what I thought.”

Something crashed loudly inside, and Hypatia muttered about expensive furniture and glass that was hard to replace, but she said, “Ah, hell, Zeke can handle it. I’m getting too old for this shit.” She withdrew a flask, unscrewed it, and drank deeply.

Celeste watched her, amused. “I’ll never understand why you own a bar but insist on carrying your own.”

“That shit in there is watered to piss,” Hypatia admitted, coughing lightly. “This is the good stuff, straight from the barrel. You want?”

“Better not. I’ve got to get Mariel home later.”

Hypatia rolled her shoulders. “Don’t be such a biddy, Celeste. I swear, that half-Elect blood of yours keeps you wound tighter than a rich man’s asshole.”

Celeste bristled. She wanted to protest that watching out for her baby sister had nothing to do with her being mixed-blood, but she was worried there was some truth in Hypatia’s observation, although not the way she meant it. Celeste could pass as Elect, but Mariel could not, and that left Celeste with a certain obligation to look out for her sister, especially on a night when free license moved the hearts of men in wicked ways. But she didn’t feel like explaining it all to Hypatia, especially when she wasn’t sure she had the words for it, anyhow.