If being a modern woman means grinning and bearing it when a man demeans her, no matter what his 'intentions' are, Kate'll be happy to stay exactly as she is. 'Cuz the thing is, it don't mean a goddamn lick whether she's from the past or the future, is a Victorian or an alien, no lady deserves to be called a bitch or sexually ridiculed after the very argument where she expresses discomfort and rage over that topic. Every time somebody suggests she don't understand because she's from a different where and when makes her feel like a relic, like she's stupid or there's something inherently wrong with her, like she should be ashamed — and all that does is make her want to shoot every man in the goddamn bar if they so much as hint at disrespecting a lady.

There is no excuse for Voodoo's behavior. Not for Kate.

So she glances at Tommy, watching the rage percolate behind his eyes, unclear as to what she should say. She's reminded — not for the first time — of the night he fought with his brother, knuckles torn and eyes wild. Nothing will ever rub that sight from her memory. It's one of the bigger reasons why she never mentioned Voodoo was the author of that note.