"You know, you're playing with fire here," Bethan said almost mildly, her voice low and level, but somehow dangerous. "This chick, whoever she is, probably wouldn't be to keen on you sticking your nose in her business. And if she can fight off a fucking gang, I'm pretty sure she can kick your ass so hard her foot comes out the top of your head. I'd keep my nose out, if I were you; I'd get rid of my samples, drop the reporter bullshit, and forget any of this ever happened."
That hadn't been exactly subtle, but what the hell. The threat of violence quite often did the job where more subtle coercion failed, and she was losing patience. For fuck's sake, she'd finally found something that made her feel strong again, that made her feel like she was making a fucking difference, and this dumb bitch was going to ruin everything without even trying. She turned away, picking at the stitching on her glove, and moved back to the Mongrel, her mood fouler than ever.