"Peer pressure," Zinda says sadly. "Terrible thing t'see."

She waves cheerfully to the bouncer, a seven-foot-tall woman with red hair and more tattoos than skin visible. "Heya, Gracie."

"Zinda," Grace returns, folding her arms and grinning down at the two of them. "You're not blowin' anything up in here tonight, are ya."

"Me?" Zinda protests, wounded, putting her hands over her heart. "I'd never!"