Something in his tone, his words, affected her: her expression shifted. It lost a little of its energy, its lightheartedness. The skin around her eyes tightened.
She crouched. "Lissen here, ye little shit: there ain't no such thing as fair. When yer workin' under someone, ye either do as ye say or ye get th'feck outta th'way. Ye'll do as Thatcher bids ye, or I'll see ye taken care of afore ye go 'round muckin' things up. Ye understand?" Her voice had gone low. She was staring right at his eyes.
She crouched. "Lissen here, ye little shit: there ain't no such thing as fair. When yer workin' under someone, ye either do as ye say or ye get th'feck outta th'way. Ye'll do as Thatcher bids ye, or I'll see ye taken care of afore ye go 'round muckin' things up. Ye understand?" Her voice had gone low. She was staring right at his eyes.
