Man, if Marco had any clue about the kinds of ways York's had her ass handed to her on a plate before, he wouldn't have bothered to frame her as some invulnerable hero. Or maybe he would have, because she keeps getting back up and doing it again. In a more literal sense than she's really comfortable with right now.

"I am retired," York snorts, moving to slide Marco's drink a little further out of the way. He's obviously far less interested in his Nova Cola than he is in her post-retirement gigs, and he's dropped the dumb act. And okay, part of that appeals to her a little. The part of her that isn't inwardly mourning the left side of her face. "Somebody came into the bar a while back, wanted somebody to clear out some pests in his neighborhood. Convenient that he didn't mention the pests were armed with explosives."