“I wore a dress the day I bashed your head in,” she reminded him. Gave him one heck of a view up the backside when she waltzed across the room and climbed on somebody else’s lap, too. “But let’s see, what do I suggest.” She flicked her cigarette at an ashtray, missing entirely. “I suggest that you’re a shit for claiming my wardrobe is to blame for your wandering prick, and I suggest you watch your ass, because there are darker things playing this hand than you or me. We’re rats in a maze.”

Her fingers went up his sleeve. "Skitter skitter."