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She snorted. "Of course not. Nor do I make love with the light on. The wobbly bits look better in the dark."
I grinned. "And if you don't like the look of your partner, it's easier to imagine you're with someone else."
"Hell, yeah." She paused. "So what do you think this is really all about?"
I shrugged, and half-wondered why she was asking that question. I mean, she had no idea who was listening in or who I really was. For all she knew, I might be here to sort out any possible spies. But then, bear-shifters, for all their fearsome attitudes, also had a reputation for brutal honesty. Maybe she simply thought that because I was here, in the middle of the bus, that I was trustworthy.
Or maybe she was the plant.
But for some reason, I thought not - and I have no idea why, other than the fact that I liked her. Considering my low batting average of late when it came to picking friends, I really should be taking that as a sign to be more cautious around her.
"I think we have a rich, eccentric recluse who likes to show off to his friends by throwing wild sex parties."
"But the arena? I like fighting, don't get me wrong, but this seems a little more serious than the stuff I usually do."
"You fight for a living?"
"I'm a wrestler by trade."
Well, she certainly had the size for it. And though I'd never seen a bear-shifter in action, she probably had the speed, as well. Real bears could certainly move damn fast, for all their bulk. "There's a fair bit of money in that, isn't there?"
"If you're good. I don't make half as much as Ginny."
I frowned, "Who's Ginny?"
"The tat lady. You must have noticed her in the line earlier."
Ah - the light-on-her-toes woman. I'd been right. She did fight for a living. "So you know each other?"
"We work the same circuit."
Which could have meant anything from they were the best of friends to mortal enemies.
"You're both out of work at the moment, then?"
"No. But for me, this otter is just too good to refuse. It'll give me some decent fall-back money. I might even be able to buy myself somewhere to live." She paused. In the brief silence, I heard the squeak of seats as the other women moved. None of them were talking. Maybe they were riveted by our conversation.
"So what were you up to when they recruited you, wolf?"
"I've only just come down from Sydney."
"Why?"
"Things got a little heated up there for me. Thought retreat was better than ending up sitting behind cell bars."
She didn't say anything, but there was suddenly a decided chill coming from her direction. "Anything major?"
"Just getting a little light-fingered in the wrong place."
"A thief."
She said it in a flat-toned, disapproving sort of way. Not surprising, given the brutally honest tendencies of her race. But her tone also suggested I'd just lost a potential friend. That was sad, because I generally found it hard to make friends, and things had, up until that moment, seemed hopeful.
"When I need to be." I shrugged. "A girl's got to live."
"A girl can get a regular job."
"I do. They always fire me."
