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"Dean, you think you could take her?" Rick asks.
"If I had a death wish, maybe." Dean shakes his head no way.
"But she's…" He looks to me. "You're so small."
"And agile. As soon as you see her, she's gone." He slaps his hands together. Lets one whiz past the other. "If you want to go, be my guest. But I'm gonna insist on charging first. In case you don't make it back."
Rick's jaw drops.
He's really buying this.
It's weird. He's looking at me with all this respect.
Ten minutes ago, I was nothing but a piece of meat.
Now I'm worthy of more than his boner.
Dean made me feel mixed-up, but he never made me feel like that. Not until I was staring at my cell, wondering what I'd done wrong, wondering why I wasn't worthy of his attention.
Dean winks at me. Turns back to Rick. "Stay still." He's quick about applying the temporary tattoo and peeling it off.
It's hard to explain how perfect it is. The lines fall over his muscles like they were made for them.
No. They were.
This is an art I don't understand. That I barely begin to understand. And Dean really is the perfect person to teach me.
He turns Rick to the mirror. "Still in love?"
Rick's eyes go wide. "Fuck yeah." He looks to me. "Would you clean it off?"
Dean nods. "Do the honors."
It's quick, a few swipes of rubbing alcohol, then a few of a paper towel.
Rick looks at me with goo-goo eyes. "You sure she can't do the ink?"
"Damn. This is why no one hires hot women." Dean shakes his head with mock indignation.
"Is it?" God, he's stupid.
"Yeah." Dean nods. "They steal all your attention."
"Wasn't gonna stare at your chest." Rick blushes. "I mean—"
"It's fine," Dean answers for me.
Who the fuck does he—
"Go wash up, Cloe." He taps the gun with his gloved hand. Nods to Rick's easy, breeze smile.
He's calmer than he was when he came in.
Because of Dean's stupidity.
Because he's too busy thinking about my boobs to consider the giant needle awaiting him.
I get his point. Really, I do.
