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Naturally the talk centres on these events.Late morning sees a couple in their late forties or early fifties walk in the room. Both are fit and the woman looks very good in just a halter top and hot pants with thigh length leather boots. She asks, “You, Matt Dyer?” He nods. She walks over, holding out her hand, “Irene Miller.”Matt shakes her hand, “Did you ride down?” She nods yes. “Like that?” Another nod with a half frown. “Are you a total idiot or just too dumb to think things through?” He turns to the man, “You’re worse because you have to know better!”She frowns and goes to speak, but the man interrupts by saying, “Yes, I do know better. But I can’t say no to her.”Matt calls out, “Monica, can you please take this lady down to the trauma ward to show her the injuries suffered by the fellow that came in the other day. The total idiot whose bike went down on the way home from the Aquatic Centre. The one that lost all that skin while doing only twenty kilometres per hour when he. Let's see if the young tree can be encouraged to grow straight without having to break it." Yes, Master," Barbala said jumping up and running towards the back rooms. Antal looked at Ilona again and frowned."I am sorry, Antal," she said softly."Not your fault," he grunted. "Well, not all your fault, anyway. We could all see this coming." Her answer was cut off by Barbala returning with a petulant Catalyn in tow."You wanted me?" she asked angrily."Beware your mouth, slave," he responded coldly. "Kneel in front of your master and you will address me appropriately as you do so." I won't kneel before a thief," she said flinging her hair back over her shoulder."I'm no thief, girl," he said dangerously."Smuggler, thief, it makes no difference. You're still a criminal and when you're caught they will hang you by the neck in the town square with the other garbage."Quick as a pouncing jungle cat Antal was out of his chair and had the young woman by the throat with one hand. Gently he squeezed.
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