The last time he'd seen her, he hadn't even gotten a good look--shoot-outs have a way of being fairly distracting--so he takes one now from behind his cigarette. She's got this little "I know what you're up to" smile that glitters in her eyes and she lounges on the arm like it's a throne.

It helps that she's so easy on the eyes. "Faye." He grins, a single, wicked flash back at her and then lifts his eyebrows. "It must be my lucky day." He waves a nonchalant hand at the chess board. "You just missed watching me get roundly beaten. Clearly there is a God, and I made the right career choice."

Last time he'd seen her--even without getting a good look--she'd been backing up her partner, and doing a pretty good job of it, too. She's a good shot, and that's something he'd guessed before but nows for sure now.

What he doesn't know is how good a glimpse she got of him, or of that cloth-wrapped cross that's leaning so innocently on the window behind him.