"I'm going to hold you to that." He was reliable in that respect anyway; and if he didn't she would give him hell for it when she had to inevitably clean him up anyway. Why he would ever mar that handsome face with bruises and cuts all of the time, she would never know, but she couldn't tell him how to live his life or make his money. "Can't have scars all over that handsome face or lose the use of that hand." She wasn't a miracle worker and while magic helped keep things under wraps, eventually something would give.

"Hungry?" She asked, but had packed up her carpet bag and was halfway toward the back of the shop where there was a set of stairs that led up to the Whitby flat, assuming he would follow if he was.