One of the men at Shrike's table jeered at the lady's response, but a second man cuffed the first round the head and had them return to their card game. Shrike was by now more focussed on this other game, lowering his hand to the chair's arm as the lady made no move to flee. He wasn't surprised by this, frankly — the Scot was a handsome beast in a zoo of preening brats. He had the wealth to be here, but certainly not the class; and no part of him was abashed or stifled by this.

He passed a scantily-clad girl a few sickles for the firewhisky as she served it, but his eyes remained on the teasing madam in his lap. "Alrigh', two mistakes then", he corrected himself with a rough chuckle. "Mi brother's've accused me of bein' a magpie; snatchin' up the bonniest thing in the room without stoppin' to think abou' it."