Erin's blinking confusion at All Of That is interrupted by the unwanted touch. A knife plunges into the table in a blur of motion, knocking over several bottles and making both glasses jump.

Notches are carved into the handle.

"Everyone gets one warning," Erin says in a low voice. "Touch me again without asking and I'll have your guts for garters, no matter how hot you are. Take your hand back or you're donating it to me."

Those cute shapes in her gunpowder are gone, and it's popping off like cannon fire. Hungry for an excuse.