He backed up. She stepped forward in time, with teeth bared in a feral smile.

Punch him punch him punch him in his mustachioed pretty boy face! But, no. He made eye contact, made the gestures of surrender, and there was Fanny to sniff like it was only mildly off meat.

“You talk too much.”

Worse: she liked the idea of beating opposition to a pulp. Any opposition. His opposition. She scoffed.

“What, is Officer Church-Bell gonna go roughing up pickpockets now?”