[ There is something about the way she settles in against his side, like she belongs there. Like her body was made to slot in against his. Even under the layers of his suit, her dress, the weight of the mission and the goal settled down around them, he thinks about how she feels when he's really slotted in against her, inside of her. How her hands clasp at his shoulders, how her legs knot at the small of his back.

Yeah, he's in danger of getting uncomfortably hard right in the middle of this casino. That wouldn't do.

Of course, that's almost preferable to the way her dropping that word hits him almost like a physical blow. He's been good at ignoring... a lot of things, really. Marvelous what you can do, when single-minded dissociation is kind of your go-to coping mechanism, and it has been, for some time. But it turns out maybe this act is churning some things to the surface.

Not that he cares. Obviously. ]

Guess you've got me there. [ It's muttered with a little less bite, certainty, than one might normally expect, but only a little. Probably not even noticeable. ] You do have lots of good qualities.

[ Like how nicely his arm curls around her waist, holding over her hip possessively. He's not the only one getting looks, after all. Her neckline seems to have its own gravitational pull, targeted solely at the eyes of at least half the men in this place. He doesn't like it. ]

I might have to play bodyguard as much as good luck.