Margo scowled at Sven. “My legs are none of your business!”
”Oh, yes they are,” he grinned, an evil, thickset imp who leaned back and cracked his knuckles while staring her down.
Margo turned a dismayed look on Kit. “He isn’t…”
Kit nodded
”Oh, no.. .” She sat back in stunned horror. “My teacher?”
”Yep,” Sven said as his beer arrived with the bread and fruit plate. “Tomorrow morning, 7:00 A.m. Dress out and be prompt. Because if you’re late, I am going to wipe up the mat with you.” Then he laughed. “Hell, I’m going to wipe up the mat with you either way, but if you’re late, I’ll be irritated when I do it.” He held up his glass in a toast. “Enjoy your dinner.”
The look of stricken horror Margo tried to hide was comical.
Kit grinned and refilled her wine glass. “Drink up, kid. Tomorrow you go into training, which means no more alcohol.” The stricken look deepened.
”None? Not even wine?”
”None,” Kit and Sven said simultaneously.
”A muddle-headed scout-” Kit began.
”I know, I know,” Margo groaned. “Doesn’t live long.”
Thus proving she can learn; if she hears it often enough. “After you finish up with Sven, Ann Vinh Mulhaney will be ready for you.”
”What does she do?” Margo wailed.
”She shoots the pants off me,” Sven chuckled.
Margo just covered her face. “I’m doomed.”
Kit tousled her hair, earning a fierce glare. “You could always quit and go home.”
”Never!” The alley-cat snarl prompted a grin of anticipation from Sven Bailey.
”Well, then,” Kit smiled, “eat your dinner and pay attention. Uncle Sven and I are about to start your first lesson in survival theory”