"Not sure yet," she said honestly. Wesley hadn't gotten back to her, and she was starting to worry about his state of mind. Conrad was dead. She knew how he felt about the man. "Probably a little bit of both."
As the question of what she did for a living came up, Fox smiled beatifically over the rim of her glass of whiskey. She took another long, savoring sip of liquor, drawing out the mystery in a moment of silence, before setting down her drink. He was asking questions in such a way that, despite the reasonable words, felt like he was trying to suss out some things he already suspected. People were far less secretive here. Superpowered people, supernatural creatures, magic users... When compared to the likes of them, what did assassin really rank on the list of weird?
Even so, Fox had it drilled into her head for years and years the necessity of what she did and protecting the Fraternity meant protecting their secrets. Wesley was less than careful about that part. That was his choice. She didn't want to rain on his parade. She didn't need to when there was no Sloan and no Loom dictating their actions.
"Textiles." Fox didn't quite pick her glass back up, but she swirled it around idly. Her dark eyes scanned him up and down overtly. Admiring? Calculating? It would be tough to tell. "You?"