He watched her light the smoke with a bemused expression; not exactly pleased, but more amused than irritated, lucky for her. The pub was busy; he’d taken her outside as soon as he’d seen her, it wouldn’t do for her to be seen in a place like this, and he didn’t like the small ripple that’d gone through the residents - most of them his men, none of them used to a woman like that in their establishment, all glossy hair and red lipstick and a fur edging on her coat that cost more than three month’s pay. He tapped his hand absently against the soot-grime brick of the back wall. They were in the yard; the smoke from the furnace should’ve choked her, but she didn’t seem like the sort to flinch.  He ignored her ‘message’ utterly.

“You’ve got a right nerve, coming in here,” he said, instead, and he looked her up and down, something significant in the drag of his eyes - not exactly a caress, and not exactly appreciative. “Think that ‘cause you’re carrying a message from Shelby you’re untouchable, and maybe you’re right about that, I don’t know, he’s a big fuckin’ man now: but you should be more careful. Dismiss your cab a few streets down, did’ja? That’s a long way for a woman like you to walk before one of my boys spots you and gets you somewhere safe. Lots of dark alleys.”