As she put the small pot of lip color back in her pouch, she glanced over at Latan and met his eyes. His face flamed at having been caught staring. He was sworn to celibacy in the service of a Source, and had no business being so fascinated by the sight of a woman putting on cosmetics. Besides, it was rude to stare.
“You’ve never seen someone putting on makeup before?” she asked.
“I, well, no,” he stammered. “I just, it surprised me that a woman in your situation would bother with such things.”
“Just because I have a man’s job and a man’s skills doesn’t mean I have to look like a man.”
“Ah, well, no, of course not.” Then curiosity led him on. “Don’t you worry, being that you look so obviously like a woman, that someone might try something, er, untoward?”
He barely even saw her move. In an instant she was behind him, one arm around his neck in a chokehold, the other pressing the sharp edge of a knife to his throat. “No one,” she said in a low voice in his ear, “tries anything unless I want him to.”