They hadn't been, and the look she shoots Goldy now is more knowingly amused than appreciative, but Grace has never been one of those women who views all others as potential competition. She's too confident for that. Mostly she thinks the Fable looks like she knows her way around, and that's never a bad sort of acquaintance to cultivate.

"Music's shit, but the beer's cold," she says by way of an answer, voice low and thickly accented. Grace always sounds on the verge of wry laughter, like she's waiting on a punchline. "Got a light?"

A cigarette dangles from her fingers, flicking up and down in time with the music.