“So,” the man said, flashing Calliope a charming smile, “what’s a nice girl like you…” He trailed off as he noticed her belt with its dangerous-looking attachments and her large hover boots.

“Oh, you know,” she replied to his unfinished question. “Sometimes a girl needs to unwind.” She leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of cleavage above the half-open zipper of her flight suit. “Care to buy me a drink?”

Back on familiar ground, his smile broadened. “What’ll you have?”

“Something girly,” she said with a giggle. “Synthfruit, little umbrella…”

He motioned for the bartender. “Tequila sunrise for the lady, please.”

“That sounds absolutely decadent,” Calliope murmured. “Can I ask what you do for a living?”

He coughed. “Commodities broker, nothing exciting.”

“Really?” she said. “I thought you were indentured.”

“Why would you think—”

Before he could blink, he found himself fitted with a pair of restraining cuffs.

“Because I’m with the IRS,” she said, grinning. “Bartender, can I get that drink to go?”