Iris knew what her own lies tasted like, and she wasn't going to eat them. She wasn't going to buy any of his either. Pretending knowing things he didn't, pretending to be harmless when he wasn't. He was no wolf, but he didn't wear sheep's clothing, either. She liked the grin anyway, and found herself inordinately pleased at calling it up. It was like winning something.
This was getting complex.
She took her crutches and swung them under her arms, hobbling a little to make sure it was obvious she wasn't quite the expert she was at it. "If you have one," she said, impishly, "it is safe." She'd wait politely for him to leave before opening the door.