Vice came up behind Mari with a curse. "Well, that was efficient, you little murder machine."
Ivo expected the girl to grumble some more, but she actually looked up to Vice with that lopsided, chipped-tooth grin. "Thanks."
Vice shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. "Whatever, you'll fit right in with the other sickos."
He scouted ahead, holding his gun close to his head. Mari stopped for a moment, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she observed Vice's back.
"He's a bit of an asshole, isn't he?" she asked Ivo when he walked by her.
Ivo thought it took one of recognise one, in this particular situation, but he wasn't going to point that out. "Yeah, but it's part of his charm."
He refrained from patting her messy mohawk, (she would probably bite him if he tried), so instead he winked at her. "I think he likes you, though."
Ivo knew no such thing, but Mari probably needed to hear that.