The Red Peril

"Salut," she echoed, turning her wineglass by the stem. "I never actually slept with a mark. It was just...letting them think they had a chance," Sinthia admitted, shrugging a shoulder. She'd chosen to sit ninety-degrees to Illya rather than straight across so she could see down the street her balcony overlooked; the glow from the rest of the city lit up the sky too much to see the stars but it made the shadowy lee sides of the buildings around and taller than them seem private.

"Can I tell you something without you getting angry?" she asked rather suddenly.