"Y'know," says Angelina. "When I said I was gonna die young, I didn't necessarily mean that how it sounded. I mean, I know it's your thing about making sure nobody gets hurt with you around and all, I was just meaning, well, hm." She pauses and takes a sip. "Where I come from, people live fast and die young, or they don't do much livin' at all. There's just not much in the way of sittin' on the porch and sippin' lemonade."

"That's the problem," Gavin says. "Neither of us seem well set up for a lemonade sipping existence. There are just too many dangers in the world and someone needs to deal with them. I didn't mean to sound patronizing when I er...reacted to your declaration. I just can't really imagine things working out that way, so it hits a nerve.

"Yeah, I know," says Angelina. "I don't much think about how things'll work out, at least not for me personally. I'm just tryin' to keep an eye out for stuff that'll keep things from workin' out for everybody else, y'know? Like normal people an' stuff. They should get to have normal lives. And if they don't, maybe I can stop whatever messed 'em up from messin' up somebody else."

With this, Angelina's tone shifts a little, sounding darker and less reflective. "I'm not talkin' about revenge, you understand. I'm talkin' about defending someone's honor." She takes a breath as if to add to that, but then stops suddenly and refills her glass (and Gavin's, if empty).

"Honor." Gavin chuckles darkly. "I wish you more luck than I've had in that arena. It's so difficult to hold on to honor when the path you walk seems to go out of its way to strip it from you..." Gavin takes another drink.

Angelina raises her glass to that. "Well, good luck to anyone who tries," she says sarcastically. "Gettin' you to screw up your honor is like gettin' Esteban to join the priesthood."

Gavin responds quietly, "Oh, it might be easier than all that," but does not press the issue, as Angelina peers at him quickly, then shakes her head as if discarding a vision. She then begins to spin out an image of Father Esteban tending to his flock, listening to the confessions of lovely young ladies and admonishing them to be chaste and true. She sounds like her usual sardonic self, continuing in this vein and talking about nothing in particular, until the Strausses return.