Well. [Dog sleds are hardcore, thank you very much.] I was thinking we could go the impersonation route: displaced exiles, stuck on the edge of the city and not wanting to be too close to the new...unsavory arrivals.

Or we tell the truth. We're traitors to the others - and while we might find ourselves out on our asses at just about every stop we hit, if we get a bite they'll probably have our backs.

[God she loves talking shop.]