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He did a double-take when the lady fluffed his hair, a note of censure in her voice. Did he know her?

Worse yet, had he slept with her and then not remembered her? The thought had him breaking out into a cold sweat that a group of bloodthirsty thugs had failed to summon. He didn't make a habit of it; it had only happened a handful of times, under extenuating circumstance, he really didn't—

—No, she was… helping him?

His glance darted back and forth from either end of the street, noting the disturbance Twitch's men were causing, asking (or rather, demanding) of people if they had seen someone resembling his description. Nicodemo supposed putting two and two together, the wizard hastening away with the ensuing pursuants, was probably inevitable.

Which meant she was being a rather good sport, considering there was a good possibility she thought her life was in danger, and also that the tattered robes he'd shrugged on were perfumed with eau de pisse and numerous other intermingling stenches. Even his seasoned nose wrinkled upon closer inspection.

"Love me, I suppose," he said, dolefully. "At the very least," Nicodemo eyed one of the wizards nearing where they stood, grabbing bystanders and prodding convenient hiding spaces. He tugged his hood up and started to slowly pull her away, hoping to double-back along the alley they'd already checked, or duck into one of the shops, "allow me to buy you something pretty to show my utmost devotion."