[ If he doesn't want her needling him all evening (or for however long they remained in Abraxas), he shouldn't have given her an opening. But as it stands, Hilda picks up what he's putting down, a devious quality spreading onto her face. ]

But I am hearing you say that I contributed somehow. [ With an enthusiastic abandon, she looping her arm through his before dragging him off the dance floor in search of food (and probably to continue avoiding her suitor). ]

It's okay, I'll keep your little secret. Being a big softie probably isn't very good for an assassin, right?