The tenseness that accompanied Journey's approach doesn't greet Jordan. Ai-Ling has her right thumb tucked in the empty belt loops of her jeans, which brings it close - but not threateningly so - to her sword,and her demeaour is confident and relaxed.

"Good. I don't much like being jumped on."

She frowns slightly at the name blood-hound. It doesn't sound savoury.