[This woman understood this simple movement, from the sharp, over-saturated span of years when she had been neither Havoc nor Carmine nor any of the other code names she'd accumulated and then shed. In the back alleys and cheap motel rooms in that Romanian city she'd hidden from the eyes of those who recognized her from her past, she had learned well how to pour drinks for the already intoxicated, how to light men's cigarettes, how to do a lot of things. None of it bothered her, because she'd been alive to do it and capable of feeling anything she wanted to about it.]

I don't know... I heard it's really hard to actually die here...

[So it's smooth, despite the crooked fingers, holding it until the the light catches and he takes it back.

He actually did fool her with that move- interesting. Without complaint, she takes the bag back despite the obvious bit of struggle she has with it, she falls back in line behind him... and she thinks, hm. This one might not be worth it, if he was this suspicious but also this perceptive. She'd be gone by now if there weren't so few young people among the aions here in the Citadel.

But that's not the case, and when he asks... she looks at him (the side of his head), blinking a moment as if to ask "my deal?" before,]

... Here with the Kenoma? I do have powers, if that's what you're worried about.

[As if he was surely just concerned that a woman who looked like she did couldn't hold her own.]