Someone calling a name? Mackenzie relaxed. Lewis didn't look too concerned about it, so it must have either been far away or relatively innocuous-sounding. He went to fiddle with some papers. She thought about going over to see what he was doing, but prudence demanded that she check the street for intruders. She couldn't guarantee that the shout hadn't been nearby or hostile, and anyone who let bandits get the drop on them after such an obvious signal probably would deserve whatever grisly death they'd catch. And after all, if she was going to share turf with the good detective, she would have to prove that she was an asset rather than a liability; defending their territory would be a convenient way to do that.

Mackenzie had only turned halfway around when she was struck by a sudden realization: [i]Our territory?[/i] She'd barely known the man for half an hour, for all the wealth of knowledge thirty minutes of ineffectual rubbery thuds and requests for more nails could bring. How could she assume she'd be staying here? Or that it would even be wise to try?

But she could puzzle over it and make that decision after checking the street, which was still an objectively good idea regardless of how long she decided to stick around. As she approached the open fence gate, a flash of movement danced momentarily in her peripheral vision, followed by a loud THUNK.

[i]Aha![/i] There were only a few large pieces of debris in the vicinity of the flash, the nearest one about the size of a refrigerator lying on its side. Between glances at the area where the movement had disappeared, she scanned the rest of the street, suspecting some kind of trap. But when one step, then two, out the gate and onto the sidewalk failed to produce any reaction, she stalked out onto the street, trying (but not really succeeding) to move quietly. "Goddamn sons-a-bitch boots," she muttered, eyes flickering among the rubble heaps as she circled the flank of where she knew the sneaky bastard must be hiding, spear held tight and at the ready.

[i]Aw, what the hell, this sneaky business is for hacks.[/i] "Come on out boyo, I ain't got all day," she called out, jumping on top of the fridge-shaped lump, which turned out to be the wrong guess. "Ain't gonna hurtcha, neither," she added, sincerely. Bandits would often leave defended territory alone and move along to easier targets; there was no real need for anyone to die today, unless somebody got insistent about it.