"Nothin' much, yet," Zhi allowed, glancing between Clove and Thatcher. Had he not prepped her?
Clove licked his lips, and Zhi repressed a sigh. No, of course he hadn't. He might be able to play any number of parts when it came to seduction, and he might be a dab hand at acting in front of men and women he counted as future conquests, but it was obvious enough that he was reduced to a bundle of nerves in front of his master. This woman held his life in her hands, no matter the warmth that always entered his voice when he spoke of her. He'd let her down, and he was more than conscious of that fact -- he was living the guilt of it. Loyalty, people called it. Zhi counted it as stupidity.
She returned her attention back to Thatcher. "I've heard a fair range, from yer writ bein' stolen all th'way t'ye bein' bought out, an' that yer behind the gil in the city, lately. Now, I ain't one t'dabble in the affairs o'the Houses, but I rather likes yer man here, an' he seemed full o'jitters. So I says to meself, 'Zhi, I'd lay down hard coin that Thatcher could use a pair o'eyes an' ears what know the back-an'-forth o'the streets.' 'Cause the way I hears it, ye got some scrag at yer back what wouldn't mind stickin' ye. An' me?" Zhi put her fingertips on the edge of the table and leaned over them. "Ye want t'know how many spots yon scrag has on his arse, I'll find out."
She leaned back, countenance lightening. "An' unlike yer man here, I don't get caught." Mostly.
Clove licked his lips, and Zhi repressed a sigh. No, of course he hadn't. He might be able to play any number of parts when it came to seduction, and he might be a dab hand at acting in front of men and women he counted as future conquests, but it was obvious enough that he was reduced to a bundle of nerves in front of his master. This woman held his life in her hands, no matter the warmth that always entered his voice when he spoke of her. He'd let her down, and he was more than conscious of that fact -- he was living the guilt of it. Loyalty, people called it. Zhi counted it as stupidity.
She returned her attention back to Thatcher. "I've heard a fair range, from yer writ bein' stolen all th'way t'ye bein' bought out, an' that yer behind the gil in the city, lately. Now, I ain't one t'dabble in the affairs o'the Houses, but I rather likes yer man here, an' he seemed full o'jitters. So I says to meself, 'Zhi, I'd lay down hard coin that Thatcher could use a pair o'eyes an' ears what know the back-an'-forth o'the streets.' 'Cause the way I hears it, ye got some scrag at yer back what wouldn't mind stickin' ye. An' me?" Zhi put her fingertips on the edge of the table and leaned over them. "Ye want t'know how many spots yon scrag has on his arse, I'll find out."
She leaned back, countenance lightening. "An' unlike yer man here, I don't get caught." Mostly.
