Jocasta snickered at the ruse and took another very careful sip of the Nova Tears, resisting the urge to drain the cup. She wondered how she had missed the lime and salt with the first swig, maybe it had to burn your taste buds out with the alcohol before you could detect the complexities.

 

“So you are like one of those rich tourists who hunts dangerous creatures?” she jibbed. It wasn’t her way to examine exactly why she did things. Bounty Hunting was a common enough calling among those to whom the short and violent life a hired gun appealed. With her skills she supposed she could have made credits in other lines of work. There was something about tracking down and capturing marks though. At some deep level she felt like she was smarter than other people, and the chance to use guile to prove it held an instinctive appeal. Perhaps she could apply the same logic to industrial espionage or organized crime, but the compartmental nature of hunting avoided the drawn out tedium of planning too far into the future.

 

“I mean do you need the money? If you are going after these multi-million credit bounties, what are you spending all that on? Fast women?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.