She lets out a brief, airy chuckle. "I'm sure you're loving that," she says. He could, she thinks, if he let himself. There's a part of it that she believes is simply Michael being contrary because he can. But she also gets that discomfort. She grew up in a bar, spending her evenings doing homework in booths, away from drunks with familiar faces, while her mother worked. There's a part of her that's simply never going to be comfortable with this life, even if it would be nice to pretend for five minutes.

"I want the Pony," Maria admits as she half-follows him. "But I guess I'm going to need a job to start. Or five. Do you think any of the native Dominants around here would like that white lady spiritual magic?"

She smiles and resists the urge to reach out and touch him.

"Is the Down really that bad?"