“You swam with them?”
“Not on purpose. Went exploring underwater caves in the Brackish. Not very big, but big enough for a drakonile.”
“Is that when you were bit?”
“No. Got lazy, once or twice. Forgot to check. Loricators attack when they’re hungry or threatened. Drakoniles just attack. Back in my poaching days, I was too busy confounding the law, too full of my superior skill to keep track of the real danger.” He snorted. “Get cocky, get dead.”
Back in his poaching days? He made it sound like he was, actually, her father’s age, but he couldn’t be over thirty. Maybe now was the time to take advantage of the c***k in his armor. “Mr. . . . Nick, wou—”
“Just Nick.”
She paused. “Nick. Would you teach me this? Let me work with you? For a while.”
He raised the bottle to his lips, but held
