"Tell us who took the seal or I'll put my fist through your throat," she said. "Woah, woah, woah," I pulled her off him. "We don't need to hurt this person. Look, I'm sorry," I said to him.

"Like hell we don't," she said. She shoved me. "He's not gonna help without some encouragement."

"We can offer incentives other than freedom from violence, you know."

"Like what, a toaster? A pretty little benefits package?" She shoved me again. "This? This is why our marriage failed. You could never go the distance. You just don't push through to get the job done."

"You're blaming the divorce on my lack of trying? Really?" I shoved her back. "Lady, I tried. I tried like hell. What killed it was your complete inflexibility. Your way or the highway, over and over, and I eventually chose the highway."

"Yeah?" she said, "well maybe you'd like my fist through your--"

"Shut up," I said, "he's talking."

"I said," said the guy, "the seal's at the Ouroboros Club on 43rd."

"Huh," I said. "That was surprisingly easy."

"Anything to not hear you two fighting like an old--," he muttered.

So she punched him in the throat anyway.