Ivory Rose watched Murray and Ogre slide into the booth across the aisle. Ogre winked at her and she smiled back at him, then ducked her head to avoid Murray’s gaze.

Murray scared Rose, but not because he was a skin. Rose shared a squat with a couple of skins. Murray scared her because he never made a sound, rarely spoke, and had the deadest, flattest eyes she had ever seen. Just being in the same room always gave Rose a chill.

One night she had gotten drunk with Jinx, and the gutterpunk had told her that Murray had been a hitman for some militant Zionists. Rose believed him, until Jinx also told her that Dooley was a leprechaun. After that, Rose guessed it was the cheap wine talking.

Hired assassin or not, Murray got respect. Rose had seen violent drunks go out of their way to avoid confronting him.

Rose finished her coffee, put a bill under the mug, then with a nod to Ogre she left. Outside the sunlight warmed her, and with a slight grin she considered how to spend the rest of her day.