If glares were lasers, there would’ve now been two smoking holes in Lucifer’s head. Kit strapped her two trusty twin knives to her leather belt, snapping, “Of course I can keep up!” Secretly, she slipped a smaller blade into her left boot. “I’m only short, not old and decrepit!” Puffing herself up as much as possible, she poked Lucifer in the chest, hard. “Oh, and you’re also responsible for the money,” she snapped, dropping a small pouch of gold into his hands. Turning away, she fastened on a traveler’s cloak, before spinning back around with a broad, mischievous grin. “Okey, here we go!”