Time Scout by Robert Asprin & Linda Evans

Kit shrugged. “Yep.”

Margo glanced from Sven to Kit, then back. She clearly wanted to ask a question and just as clearly wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the answer yet. Kit took pity on her.

”Margo, this is Sven Bailey, acknowledged far and wide as the most dangerous man on TT-86.”

Margo’s eyes widened Sven just snorted. “Damned right I am. Last man who tried to prove otherwise ended up dead.” He guffawed, leaving Margo to stare uneasily anywhere but at him. Kit didn’t bother to explain that the gentleman in question had been a mad tourist who’d insisted on using the Biddle style of formal knife-fighting, despite Sven’s solemn warnings that it would get him killed (which it had, in some filthy little Soho alley, where he’d found out that “knife fencing” and street fighting were not the same animal, after all).

Sven high-signed Julie, who beamed in their direction while balancing a wine carafe and glasses on a silver tray. “Hi, guys,” she said brightly, setting down glasses and a perfectly chilled carafe of Piesporter, along with tumblers of ice water. “What’ll your poison be, Sven?”

He sniffed at the wine. “Not that. How about a Sam Adams?”

”Any thoughts on dinner? We have a wonderful seafood special tonight, a new dish from ancient Egypt…”

”Hell, no. Let Arley experiment on somebody else. You still doing that beef thing you had in here last week?”

Julie dimpled “We sure are. Rare?”

”Make it moo.”

Margo looked like she was about to lose her appetite or worse.

Kit grinned. “What’s wrong, kid? No stomach for blood?”