(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

eventually."
"Does anyone else here scavenge nails?"
She grinned and shook her head. "No one was clever enough or had the will
to do it before me, an' I've shoved off anyone who's tried to jump me claim
since." She patted the long-bladed dagger hanging at her side lovingly.
"Your 'claim?'"
"Aye, that's what I call it! Honest labor's hard to come by in the Hive, an' I'm
not about to let some soddin' piker peel me of me work. I've sent more than
one berk runnin' an' howlin', holdin' their guts in... or off with the Collectors,
if they were unlucky." Her dead eye gleamed maliciously. "The Hive knows
this spot is Iron Nalls', it does."
With the glut of streetwalkers and thieves throughout the Hive, you really
had to respect someone who did good, honest labor. In the back of my
mind, though, I didn’t think she could turn a trick if she tried, unless she was
planning on beating the poor sod and robbing him after. She was rather
blocky for a woman.
I had gotten so used to scars and wounds by now, however, that my tongue
slipped carelessly, "Is that how your eye was ruined?"
Nalls' face turned hard. "None a' yer business, berk. Why? Would ye like a
matchin' wound for yer collection?"
I smiled, "No, that particular one's not quite 'me.'"
She laughed heartily. "Aye, an' I don't think ye have much room for another
scar, besides!"
"True enough, Iron Nalls. Well I'm on an errand, so it’s been fine meeting
you. "
When I rounded the corner, the faint, oceany smell of fish greeted me. The
cloying scent stung sharply against the dry, dusty air of the marketplace. An
old woman stood silently by the wall, staring off into the distance. She
seemed to be unconcerned with the flow of traffic around her, and clutched
a wooden pole from which dozens of small fish dangled.
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