Fire in the Turtle
The dance class sniggered. The female partner shuffled her boots into the center of the board floor. The twist of her mouth told of more than a chip on her shoulder. In fact they could see the brace rods sticking out the back of her bodice.
Most of the veterans among them had done a class with someone who thought dance would strengthen weak muscles. The few who didn’t snigger had been in El Fuoco’s class with such a client.