Ah, there was Rook. Something had happened last night to keep him on edge but Mab hadn't asked yet. She reached out a hand to him so he could have an anchor amongst their little coterie - one for James, one for Rook, as it should be. "Oh, he was definitely talking out of his arse. I think that might be the only thing the stupid cunt talks out of," her annoyance was clear in just how thick her natural Scots accent was getting. When she was really angry, few actually understood what the fuck she was saying unless they knew her well.
"But I simply wanted to make the point here that if our lovely James ever feels truly threatened by the whoreson, we'll happily dispose of him," she lifted James's hand to her lips, kissing the back of it, "Daddy's the Sheriff, after all. I'm sure he'd look the other way." A wicked grin formed on her lips as she straightened back up.