"What? What sort of job? I thought you were retired?"

The dumb drops out of his voice once she says that, and he leans in closer over the bar, practically knocking over his drink in the process. It wasn't going to be his business, but something on the back of his neck prickles a little, and he can't help sticking his face into it. It's mostly fear, that if York is into some bullshit that turned nasty, he wants it on his own radar.

And the other part of it is that York isn't allowed to be defeatable as far as he's concerned.

"Where do you get your intel?"