It’s a woman, maybe in her late twenties. Dark-haired, with a scar across her cheek and a narrow-eyed look that dares anyone to ask her how she got it. “Well, look at the little kitty-cat, slunk back to see what’s left in the cream bowl. I thought you’d never show your face here again, not after last week. I heard someone taught you a lesson. Much overdue, it was.”
