Margo didn’t want to hear any more. Every word he clipped off reduced her closer to the status of gullible fool-again.
”Skeeter doesn’t touch ‘eighty-sixers, which is the only reason Station Security tolerates him. He’s probably wanted in half the sovereign nations in the world on various charges. Nothing violent, nothing dangerous …until now.”
”What do you mean?” Even Margo realized how petulant she sounded.
”If I thought all you’d lose was the shirt off your pretty back, I’d let you have all the rope you want to hang yourself. But if you keep `studying’ with Skeeter Jackson, then walk through an unexplored gate thinking you’re a time scout, you won’t come back.”
”Well, you didn’t leave -me much choice, did you? I did come to you first, if you’ll recall.”
He nodded. “Yep. And I gave you a fair assessment of your chances. I just thought you deserved to know how deadly this little game of yours is. Walking in with eyes wide open is a little different from being conned. Like I said before, I don’t want your death on my conscience.
”Thanks for caring!” Margo snapped. “I can do without your advice, if that’s all you’ve got to say!”
He sighed and didn’t offer to move.
”Well? Are you leaving or what?”
”Just what is he teaching you?”
Margo crossed her arms again. “None of your business. If you won’t teach me, why should I bother answering questions you’ll just charge me money to answer?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be insulting. Who picked out that ensemble you’re wearing?”
She just glared at him. Clearly, she’d made some mistakes-and vowed she’d die a torturous death before she admitted it.