[MillietheWarrior]

(Human Form)

She’d managed to do what should have been impossible.

She’d managed to avoid the mafia. She’d died her hair. She’d moved out of town. But most importantly, she’d given Xanthus the slip.

It had been…months since she’d seen him. She wasn’t sorry in the least bit; Kitche was an independent woman. She didn’t need some big idiot following her around like a giant shadow, no matter how handsome he was, or how sophisticated his suits were. Nor did she want him living in her home, dogging her every step, following her to and from work, always being there at every turn. After only a few weeks, she’d gotten tired of him always just…being there. She’d never had a break. So while he slept, late one night, Kitche had gathered her money, a few belongings, and a pack, and stealthily climbed out her window. She’d proceeded to get out of town as fast as possible. She’d gotten out of Lambastia, and headed to Barakka, where she’d set up in Lamenolai in a tiny apartment, with a two-bit job at some bakery or other making bread and pastries of all kinds. It wasn’t the best work, but at least she got some leftovers to take home.

She’d even managed to dig up one of those ridiculous ‘magic users’ who she’d enlisted to change her natural hair color to a nondescript color, and her bright red eyes to a plain, duller shade. She was absolutely certain the mafia, and more importantly, Xanthus, would be unable to find her. She was so certain, in fact, that she didn’t bother changing her first name (Her last name wasn’t a problem; she’d just used Fioray’s, since he owed her one anyways, and became Kitche Meshkenet). But Kitche’s problem here was that she’d become…too comfortable. She’d gotten too complacent; she’d believed no one could find her, and thus, she was safe. But she hadn’t counted on persistence; she’d thought Xanthus was just some crazy guy who had been exaggerating the lengths the mafia might got o get to her. So when she was making her way home in the snow, body bundled up against the cold, and four nondescript men dressed in black stepped out of the shadows.

The crunch of her boots stopped immediately, and Kitche had just enough time to wonder who she’d pissed off in another life before one of the men spoke. “You know,” he drawled, sounding very unconcerned as he strolled forward casually. “You’re one hard bird to find. You sure gave us the slip. But we finally caught up to you.” He cracked his knuckles, a humorless smirk crawling across his face. “You know, how a little broad like you managed to kill two of our guys, I’ll never know. But you did, and now it’s time to pay the piper.” Kitche’s blood had frozen in her veins, even as she willed herself to take a step back, to move away from the men, to run or do something. “I didn’t kill them,” she managed, and her voice sounded like it was stuck in her throat.

The men merely cackled, looking far too amused for such a grim situation. Kitche vaguely decided that taking a shortcut through an alley to get to work had been a very, very bad idea. These guys obviously didn’t give a damn if the sun would be rising in an hour or so, and that whatever they were doing might be seen by someone, even as they advanced towards her. All she could really think of when the men started towards her, drawing something that looked suspiciously like some kind of firearm from the insides of their jackets as they advanced, was that she hoped her boss wouldn’t be too mad when she didn’t come in for her shift that morning, and who the hell was going to feed her cat when she was gone.

[ToxicShadow]

Waking up in an abandoned apartment some months ago had really pissed off a certain man. Xanthus had gone through the trouble of saving Kitche's life and she repaid him by running off in the middle of night. When it happened, he rationalized that he shouldn't have cared in the least bit, but an irrational part of him had truly wanted to protect her. If nothing else, her brush up with the mafia had proven her to be more fragile of a woman than she had thought she was.

What the broad didn't know was how so very easy it was for a man like Xanthus to get information. So she had changed her last name, so she had changed how she looked? None of that mattered when the man had the connections that he did. After all, for his boss, digging up classified information was child's play. All Xanthus had to do was convince him that these efforts were worth while. Of course, he assured that was was tampering with the mafia's intentions by wanting to be near Kitche. It definitely took some convincing, but he had gotten his way.

Xanthus sighed, in an irritated manner, as four men approached the woman he had been looking after.  Despite the changes she had gone through, for him, there was no mistaking her. This time, however, he wasn't going to hesitate for an instant. No way in bloody hell were any of those men going to get their grubby hands on her.

Without warning, a shot was fired directly at the man who had the audacity to speak to Kitche, the bullet hitting it's mark flawlessly from above - straight through the man's shooting hand, causing him to scream and to drop the gun he had wielded. The other three men began looking around frantically, hoping to find where the shot had been fired from. In the distraction this had caused, Xanthus scaled down from the rooftop that he'd used to scope out the men, jumping back and forth from wall to wall of the ally, and putting himself between Kitche and the four men. He'd drawn his first set of firearms, one in each hand, with them aimed at the men.

"So, sweetheart, is seems you've gotten yourself into trouble again. I wonder who had predicted this outcome," he said, without taking a look back at the woman that he was shielding with his own body.

[MillietheWarrior]

Kitche leapt a foot in the air when the first shot was fired and the man dropped his gun. She clutched at her heart, wondering if all of this would be sending her to an early grave. All this stress certainly couldn’t be good for her, right? She was dealt another shocking blow when a shadowy figure leapt down from the roof and planted himself firmly between her and her would-be assailants. Her eyes widened; she recognized the back of that head. And…that voice! How in the hells had he found her?

She’d been so careful, hadn’t she? But then, these four goons had managed to locate her, so she doubted it had been any harder for Xanthus to do so. She should’ve just moved into Craiss and said to hell with it. This was gonna take ten years off her already shortened lifespan. Resisting the urge to slug Xanthus in the back (She doubted that would go over well) Kitche growled softly, baring sharply fanged teeth at the back of his head. “How did you find me?” she demanded, her voice low as she peeked under his arm to see the three uninjured man staring in disbelief at their assailant.

The fourth was clutching his hand and groaning something under his breath. “You were stalking me again, weren’t you!” That could be the only explanation as to why he was here, at the right time and place. “You…you…” She couldn’t find the right words for her anger, pointing furious at his back and reconsidering slugging him. She settled for smacking him on the shoulder. “You stalker! And don’t you dare call me ‘sweetheart’ in that sarcastic voice, you jerk!” Because Kitche was anytrhing but 'sweet.'

[ToxicShadow]

The man in the suit glared daggers with his golden eyes at Kitche from over his shoulder, "You should be glad I did," he snapped at her, but didn't dare to leave his eyes off of the other four men for longer than a moment. "Sleeping on rooftops isn't all that pleasant, especially not when you were up and abandoned without a word by someone you swore to protect. I was right, wasn't I? They came back for you. So just shut the hell up, and let me protect you!"

Annoyed now, more by Kitche's words than the presence of the four men in front of him, Xanthus didn't hesitate any longer. He jumped forward into action, landing between all of the men, shooting them two at a time, before they could aim their own weapons. Shots were fired by them, of course, but the solo man dodged them flawlessly. That was, until he blocked a stray bullet heading for the innocent woman by throwing his own weapon into it's path. These four goons were nothing in comparison in terms of combat experience, probably just extra lackeys from the the mafia, rather than fully proper members. Their presence, this time and before, was more of a little annoying flea than anything else. It only took a handful of shots to render their shooting arms useless.

"Kitche, I am going to ask you this time, do you want them dead or alive?" As the responsibility for their deaths was partially on her, for she had to witness them, and deal with whatever consequences came from either answer, Xanthus thought it best to let her choose this time around. "I will respect your wishes, on this matter."

[MillietheWarrior]

“I’m not glad you’re a stalker!” she protested, the scowl on her face darkening and dampening her pretty feature, even as she narrowed her formerly ruby red eyes back at him. They were now a striking gold, much like his own. Urgh, this infuriating man! All she wanted to do was smack him and storm off, but given the situation, she couldn’t exactly do that. “I don’t nee protecting,” she stubbornly insisted, glaring daggers at his back; if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under by now.  “And if sleeping on rooftops sucks so much, you could’ve just left me the hell alone, or got a damn hotel room!” her voice rose slightly at the end, and her face reddened slightly with her indignation, her already-rosy-from-the-cold cheeks turning as pink as the tip of her nose.

She opened her mouth to yell again, but at that moment, the guns went off, the shots muffled in the dark of the alley, and Kitche instinctively ducked, her heart beating frantically in her ears. She really was getting tired of guns; they brought nothing but grief! She covered her head, missing the fact that Xanthus had used one of his own weapons to block a stray bullet, and jerked her neck up in time with his question. “Are you nuts?!” she screeched, casting an anxious glance at the four men, who seemed quite stunned by the turn of events, slightly horrified at the thought of losing their lives. “Of course I don’t want them to be killed, you psycho! I’m getting out of here while the getting’s good.” She cast a dark look over Xanthus’s shoulder at the goons on the other side.

“You! ‘Idiots with the guns!’ Talk to this other ‘idiot with a gun’ and settle whatever the hell you need to settle about me. I’m getting out of here. I have work tomorrow and I‘ve got the early shift. So if you wanna kidnap me, take me hostage, kill me, whatever, then do it tomorrow after work, damn it, because I‘m tired of all this running!” She shot Xanthus a scorching glare. “And you! Stop being a stalker. And do whatever the hell you want with them!” She turned in a huff, intent on high-tailing it out of there as fast as possible.

[ToxicShadow]

"You would have gotten yourself killed had I not found you," Xanthus spat darkly back at Kitche. Here he had gone and thrown himself into the line of fire for her and all she could do was get pissed off at him! The circumstances were not his favorite in the world, but he was compelled to protect this woman, regardless of her sour attitude. He had given her his word before and he didn't want to go back on that.

"Damn it, if you wont make the decision clearly yourself, then I hope you can live with the regret." As the woman turned away from him, he shot off four bullets in quick session, giving the allusion of killing them off right then and there. As the woman's mercy would have it, however, he instead shot into the knees of the four already wounded men. Four pained screams filled the air as they fell to the ground. "Because of her kindness, I will not end your lives this time, but if you come for her again, I will not hesitate to exterminate you. And take the message to your boss to leave her the hell alone. She has nothing to do with this."

Promptly in one fell swoop, while the woman was still probably surprised that he had at least abide by that wish of hers, he disarmed his weapon, replaced it in his coat, and scooped Kitche up in his arms as if she weighed nothing - which, to him, was very much true. He bolted from the alleyway then, out of sight of the men as fast his feet would carry them, despite any of her protests. If she was paying any attention, he was heading straight for her home.

"I don't like the idea of you so willing to throw away your life." His voice was surprisingly soft as he told her this. "So I would appreciate if you gave it a little more value." Ironic as it was for him to say, given he would so willingly throw away the lives of the men that were after her, but his words sounded sincere.

[MillietheWarrior]

Kitche glanced over her shoulder to yell some smart remark back at him, but her eyes widened when she saw him rushing towards her. She didn’t even manage to catch a glimpse of the men laying on the ground, allowed to live because of her ‘kindness,’ before she was unceremoniously scooped up into Xanthus’s arms with a shriek that was half outrage and half astonishment. She didn’t quite realize they were headed towards her apartment until she recognized a few signs and buildings, and she promptly squirmed in his arms, turning several furious and embarrassed shades of pink as she pushed against him. “How do you know where I live?” she demanded with a growl. “You actually were stalking me! If I thought it’d work, I’d get a restraining order against you! I thought I told you once, I don’t need your protection.” Her voice lowered and she glanced down, carefully avoiding his gaze.

“I can take care of myself,” she said defiantly. “I don’t need someone to look after me like I’m some kind of defenseless child. Especially not you.” His words, however, stopped her cold, and she felt her blood freeze in her veins and her heart surge up into her throat. He’d said it somewhat casually, as though it was simply a fact of life, but truth be told, no one had ever said anything quite like that to her in her life. No one really cared if she was alive or dead, as was evidenced by her hasty departure from her old home,. Not a single ‘missing’ poster, a single add run in a newspaper, or even anything on the news. It was quite clear that she’d been forgotten about. Well, forgotten by everyone, save for the damnable mafia…and this man.

She turned her head away, carefully guarding her face and expression from him as she felt a small smile tug at her lips. “You idiot. I don’t matter that much. You’re the one who should put more value on your life, you know. You’re gonna get killed one of these days, and then I’ll have to deal with hauling your sorry body off the streets.” Even thou her words were as harsh as always, her tone was slightly warmer, if only by a small bit. She couldn’t give him too much leeway, or he’d think it was all right to barge back into her life and situate himself as an unwanted bodyguard; she wouldn’t let that happen again. She was determined to see him off, even if his words had made butterflies leap about in her stomach.

[ToxicShadow]

Despite her protests, Xanthus didn't let Kitche's feet touch the ground, determined to get her out of dodge himself, less anything else ridiculous happen tonight. Her words, however, were not much helping. Noise could easily attract unwanted attention and that was the very last thing that they needed. Irritation was rising up within him, but he contained it flawlessly. "Could you please quiet down?" he urged her, quietly, it half a command, half a suggestion of concern.

He only stopped in his tracks look down at her, carefully trying to read her as she looked away. She was hiding something, that was evident. "The way you say it, you'll be around if I get myself killed," he mused, a smirk of a smile on his face. "Unlike you, I value my life, but I trust myself and my abilities to get me out of danger. You, I cannot say so much for. You seemed ready to drop off the face of the earth, as if it didn't matter that you would be gone. Tonight is evidence enough that you cannot take care of yourself, and I gave you my word that I would protect you from this mess that you landed in."

In reality, it was probably all of his fault for getting involved, but if they had taken Kitche originally, she would have been long since dead by now, or used as a sex slave, whichever the mafia wanted to do with her at the time.

"Do keep in mind that I have saved you twice, without making any inappropriate advances on you, Kitche. If I could have avoided stalking you or avoided stepping back into your life, I would have, but you ran away and because of it, you got yourself in trouble again." He had wanted her attempts to save herself to work, he really did, but he had doubted them from the start. Stepping in was something he had been trying to avoid, but that was proven impossible. "I wanted you to live your own life, but I don't want you dead and buried in a ditch somewhere, or worse."

[MillietheWarrior]

“Tch, don’t count on me being around when you kick the bucket,” she replied stubbornly, keeping her face studiously turned away from him. She pitched her voice a little lower, taking his advice. She wasn’t exactly acting grateful for the rescue, but she didn’t exactly want someone coming after them, either. In retrospect, she should probably be thanking him profusely for saving her life a second time. But she couldn’t find it in herself to be grateful, nor could she ignore her pride long enough to admit she had actually needed his help. Sometimes, being a proud, stubborn woman was a blessing and a curse, and right now, it felt like a curse she couldn’t get around.

“I can take care of myself just fine,” she protested again, her voice a little quieter. “It’s just the guns and the hired thugs I have a problem with.” She huffed stubbornly, arms folded across her chest against the cold and against his accusations. She closed her dark gold eyes and growled softly. “It’s not like it matters if I drop off the face of the earth,” she mumbled quietly, under her breath. In truth, it would seem Xanthus was the only one who cared where she went, or if she disappeared, or where she was and how she was doing. It made something warm and fuzzy grow in her heart, but she quickly stamped it down with a firm fist. She didn’t need anything like that complicating this already complicated relationship.

He saw her as a responsibility, nothing more, and she was fine with it staying that way. She didn’t need someone coddling her, or trying to usurp her independence; Xanthus was dangerous territory, an she wanted to steer clear of danger as much as possible from now on. But a small part of her was secretly wondering what it might be like if he saw her as more than just his ‘responsibility.’ “Yeah, I know. You’re responsible for me, or some jazz like that. You don’t have to be. You could just leave me alone and let them do…whatever the hell it is they want to do.”

She was glad they’d stopped moving; it gave her the opportunity to start wiggling in his arms, pushing against his chest to try and break free of his hold. “I don’t want to be anyone’s obligation. So if you want to avoid getting caught back up in my life, then please, by all means, don‘t get tangled up in it.”

[ToxicShadow]

"Stop saying such awful things," Xanthus chided Kitche. "And stop lying." Though she stubbornly refused to look at his face, she would have seen some poorly masked concern in his eyes. Under normal circumstances, the man was very good at hiding his feelings, even hiding most of himself, becoming a fake, charming creature in order to get all the things that he wanted in the world. With this woman, however, he was closer to himself than he ever really was. "You cannot take care of yourself well enough. What happened back there has proven that, so stop arguing." His final words were stern yet, he didn't think that she would really take them to heart. It seemed that she very much loved to fuss and fight with him.

Even through her struggles, he didn't set her back down on her feet. Instead, he started walking, knowing well enough that was likely getting cold in the cool, evening air. He needed to get her home as quickly as possible.

"Kitche, I wouldn't have bothered tracking you down again, nor would I have trailed you if I just felt obligated to do it - you made it obvious that you didn't want that." When she fled in the middle of the night, he almost felt betrayed, something that had shocked him more than the death of his own father. Actually, that was a bad example, since he didn't give a damn about his father in the first place. "But knowing what would happen if they came after you, I couldn't let it go. I couldn't get you out of my head, and the thought of them doing anything to you was too much. I had no choice but to intervene if they showed up again, and they did."

He let his words sink in for a moment, having spoken them in a serious, though always charming, tone, not at all embarrassed by them.

"Are you satisfied with the truth?"

[MillietheWarrior]

“Who’s lying?” Kitche grumped, finally giving up her struggles and lying still once more. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be getting away anytime soon; Xanthus’s grip was like iron, and it was impossible to break. She settled for folding her arms over her chest, leaning back in his arms and turning her face stubbornly away from him. She didn’t dare look at him, not now. She’d feel her resolve crumbling, and she didn’t want that. She couldn’t just forget about her pride now, could she? She had to be strong. But his words had melted a small part of her heart, and the butterflies were back, making nuisances of themselves as they fluttered about in her stomach. “I’m just calling it like it is, you know.”

What did he care? He was only looking after her because of an obligation. Why did he care what she said about herself, or how she said it? But it sounded awful to him. He’d killed men, and she sounded awful to him? It was laughable, but Kitche firmly kept her laughter to herself. She sucked in a breath, ready to do verbal battle all over again, when his next words stopped her mind in it’s tracks. The breath left her in a ‘whoosh’ of air, and she nearly loosed her arms in shock. She felt a cold sense of numbness creeping over her body, and she wasn’t sure if it was from his words or from the cold, but she had a pretty good idea as to which. She gritted her teeth, closing her eyes and breathing quietly through her nose. Steeling herself, she turned to face him, finally meeting his gaze, and locking gold with gold.  “So what you’re saying,” she began in a slow, even voice. “Is that you were worried about me.” She held back the faint smile that tried to curl it’s way over her mouth, and kept her face as expressionless as possible, even though her eyes warmed marginally.

“You, of all people, were worried about me. It doesn’t make much sense, you know. Why would you worry about me? I’m not really…much of anything to you, except a passing acquaintance, if that. Why would you care?” Her fingers uncurled, and her hand stretched towards his cheek, fingertips touching the side of his face for only a moment before she quickly retracted her hand, looking down at her twining fingers in her lap as her cheeks warmed and pinked with embarrassment. “You don’t make any sense. Why did you even help me in the first place? What was I to you then? What am I now?” She wanted the truth, but the truth was, she probably wouldn’t like what she heard. She had no idea why he’d helped her in the first place, but as far as she knew, it was because he was just passing through.

[ToxicShadow]

"I do suppose that is the feeling." His words were nonchalant as he gazed back into her eyes, a slight shrug moving her whole frame as she rested in his arms. In the truth of that matter, Xanthus couldn't reason his feelings into anything, he couldn't say what deeper emotions were behind it, if there were any at all. All he knew was that he had been compelled to come to Kitche's rescue, to not leave her alone and unprotected, so he had acted. What was that old saying? Actions were louder than words. If the woman considered that, she would probably decipher him better than he could himself. He'd spent far too long faking things to know what was real and what was not.

Her touch, as fleeting as it was, caused the man's cheeks to faintly warm - a reaction he had deemed unreasonable. He had been around women before, doing things that his peculiar and obscure job required him to do, but this was entirely different. Xanthus was here with Kitche entire out of his own will to be, no other reason.

"Don't question it," he finally came around to say. She just needed to accept it and be done with it. Her questions were complicating things far too much for his liking. "Is the normal reaction to someone saving your life, let alone twice, to be grateful? I'm sure scrutinizing everything isn't the correct reaction at all."

Just then, carefully, he set the woman back on her feet at the entrance to her apartment. Though he had been stalking her for a little while now, he didn't go so far as to try to copy a key in order to get inside. That was just... creepy. He could have done it, but he thought better of it.  "Honey, we're home," he declared, an amused glint in his eye and smirk of a smile on his face. What he had really wanted to say was more like, "you'd better get inside before you catch a cold," but hell if he could speak those words.

[MillietheWarrior]

Kitche noticed that the buildings were looking more and more familiar, and she realized that he was headed straight to her apartment. Oh yeah. Creepy stalker. Of course he knew where she lived. She hadn’t even had to give him direction. It was a bit disconcerting to know that he’d been watching her and he knew where she lived. Well, not so much disconcerting as it was freaky. She kept her gaze studiously fixed on her lap, missing the faint blush that warmed his cheeks at her touch. “I’m not exactly normal, you know,” she responded, huffing lightly. “So you can’t expect me to be grateful for everything. And I really want to know.” When he set her down, she shrugged out of his arms, extricating herself with a scowl as she dug around in her pockets for her key.

“At least you didn’t do the creepy stalker thing and make a key to my apartment,” she muttered in annoyance, pushing the door open once she’d managed to get it unlocked and stepping inside. She flipped on a switch beside the door, but before he managed to come in behind her, she held a hand out. “Shoes. Off,” she commanded, taking her own boots off near the door and sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. “There’s an extra set for company, but I don’t even know if they’ll fit. So just walk around in your socks.” She unwound the scar from her neck, hanging it on a rack, and unzipped her sweater, pulling it off to reveal a black shirt underneath slightly stained with flour from her job.

“And don’t joke like that,” she grouched, pressing a hand against her stomach as she turned away, feeling the butterflies start up again. “I really do want to know, Xanthus,” she said after a few moments of standing motionless in the hallway leading from the door. “Why did you save me? Why do you care? Can’t you tell me? Please?”

[ToxicShadow]

Xanthus chuckled as Kitche dug out her keys and unlocked the door, amused that they had such similar thoughts. "I had plenty of opportunities to get a key, but you're right, it's creepy, and I didn't think you'd like that very much if I did." Even though being honest with her about such an unorthodox topic probably wouldn't score him any good points in her book, that was just it, Xanthus was honest with Kitche. More honest than he was commonly capable of. She wanted to know why he was worried about her, but he was wondering the very same thing. What about her made him treat her differently from everyone else? It was as much a mystery to her as it was to him and he, too, wanted to know the reason why.

In truth, it alarmed him that Kitche had invited him in with the round-about way of telling him to remove his shoes before entering, so with that feeling apparent on his face, he obliged, closing the door to the cold, outside world behind him. "I didn't think you'd even let me in through the door," he commented. "Not with my being a 'creepy stalker,' and an 'idiot with a gun.'"

Rather than slipping out of his jacket, he left it firmly in place, in the event that she brashly kicked him out. From how things were going, such an outcome seemed inevitable. But, before she could really gripe at him some more, he asked a question with a curiously raised eyebrow. "You don't ever have any men over for company?" If her extra slippers wouldn't fit him, that must have meant that she didn't, or so he had hoped she would say.

The man stood there, awkwardly just inside the doorway, while she was already making her way down the hall. In his mind, there was a debate going on, as to rather or not he should tell her initially what happened. It finally came down to, "I don't think you'd believe everything if I told you; it gets complicated and unpleasant."

Despite his words, he sighed, "But if you want to hear it, you'll have to keep an open mind." Even if  he kept skirting around the question, he knew that she would just keep badgering him over it, so it seemed better just to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. She could judge him then.

[MillietheWarrior]

“You’re right on that one,” the woman muttered dryly as she dusted some of the flour off of her shirt and went about meandering into and through the kitchen. She beckoned him to follow her as she opened cupboards and procured a pair of cups and a teapot. “Hope you like hot chocolate,” she intoned quietly, filling the pot with water and tearing the top off of an nondescript package and dumping it inside. "You’re lucky you didn’t try to make a key; I’ve recently bought myself a taser, and I’m not afraid to use it.” She set the pot on the stove, cranking up the heat, and turned to lean against the counter, arms crossed over her chest.

“I still think you’re a creepy stalker and an idiot with a gun,” she agreed, though the quirk of her lips told him she found it more amusing than exasperating this time. As much as she hated to admit it, it was kind of…nice having someone else over and not worrying about ulterior motives and the fact that they might, possibly, be out to kill her. Technically, Xanthus was still up in the air in both of those categories, but she trusted him well enough to at least sit down and listen to his reasoning behind all this (And the fact that she had a taser in her kitchen made her just a little bit more confident).

Her brows drew downwards as a scowl slipped onto her face at his question. “Of course I don’t have men over. Why would I? There’s no telling who’s a friend or foe.” Her scowl turned into a wicked leer, and she wiggled her eyebrows as she leaned off the counter towards him. “Why? Jealous?” Her devilish smirk and teasing tone made it clear that she didn’t expect him to answer in the affirmative, so she leaned back against the counter again and sighed. “Trust me; after all the crud I’ve seen and been through, an open mind is the last thing you have to worry about. So just…lay it on me, okay?”