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“Just ignore him,” I whisper. “It’s nothing.”

But Gavriil’s shoulders square and he steps forward. “I don’t like the way you’re talking to her. Apologize.”

Mr. Rimkus was already smiling, but it broadens. “I’m not sure we’ve had the pleasure of making our introductions yet, but I always enjoy making new friends.”

“Unnecessary.” I grab Gavriil’s hand. “After next week, when Quicksilver and I win, I won’t be acquainted with Mr. Rimkus anymore.”

But Gav’s not letting it go. “I’m not sure you should be acquainted with him now.”

An image of Gavriil, a bullet hole blooming in the center of his forehead, flashes through my mind, and I quiver. “No,” I whisper. “Please just let it go.”

“She seems to really like you.” Mr. Rimkus tilts his head like a bird watching something from a branch far above. “Curious. I thought she never really fancied anyone. I thought she fancied women, honestly.”

“Shut your mouth,” Gavriil says.

I tighten my fingers around his. “Just ignore him,” I beg. “Please.”

The water hose on the end of the row starts spraying, water spewing hard and fast.

All over Mr. Rimkus.

He splutters, spinning around, his eyes wide and angry. “Who did that?”

But no one’s anywhere near the hose.

I know what happened, of course, but no one else has any idea.

Mr. Rimkus heads toward the hose, intending to turn it off, perhaps, but he just gets more and more soaked.

Gavriil’s laughing.

I shake my head tightly. “Don’t laugh.”

When Mr. Rimkus gives up on shutting it off and turns back toward us, he looks like a drowned rat. He never really looks angry, at least not that I’ve seen, but he’s clearly fuming now. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and I won’t come alone.”

The hose magically shuts off the second he’s gone.

“What on earth was that?” Gavriil asks.

“How about this?” I ask. “I’m starving, but I need to talk to someone about the water, and I need to make sure Quicksilver has calmed down.”

“I’ll go get you food,” Gavriil says, “but I’m looking into that man, too. I don’t like him, and I hate that he’s anywhere near you.”

“Same,” I whisper. “But he’s a very connected, very dangerous Lithuanian arms dealer. I need you to listen to me, Gavriil. I have this under control. Please let it go.”

He stares at me for a long time, but finally, he nods and leaves.

I’m guessing he’s the easy one to convince—the hose sprayer is probably way angrier. When I circle toward the stall, Quicksilver looks ticked. I duck into the stall, and he snorts. “I know. You didn’t like him from the start.”

He paws the shavings until the mats underneath are exposed.

“You want to change so we can talk.”

He nods.

“You can’t do that,” I whisper. “There are too many people around here.”

He bumps my wrist with his nose.