She narrowed her eyes playfully in response to Spencer's too chipper reminder. She wondered if it was because she never knew her father, had no memory of him that could be considered and called true, that she saw Fursey in her male friends, the ones older than her that cared for her as Spencer and Luke did. Fursey was the closest thing she could claim to a father, in spirit, but even he, with his wine-sodden ways, was a far cry from what any child would wish to see in her father. But what he lacked in paternal traits, he made up for with a sharp mind, sharp tongue and an uncanny ability to make Hild see the error of her ways without making her feel too great a fool to learn from those mistakes.

Plucking a chocolate chip from the top of a pastry, Hild considered Spencer's words. It was his duty to keep the law, which she respected, but she wondered at those law themselves sometimes. Often times.

"She doesn't have a license," Hild said, pointing out the obvious. "And neither did the store owner before. Is it so very difficult to get a license that they took the risk without it?"