Coughing out a laugh, I roll my eyes at the familiar blush lighting up Tom's cheeks. Looking past him to Florence, I arch a brow and give her a flat sorta look. What little I know of her, this much is obvious: She doesn't care.

Well, it's not that, but she doesn't have the same curiosity about people's personal lives that most seem to. Knowing about who we fuck and when isn't going to change whether or not we make it through this night.

So, like I said... it's not some big fuckin' revelation.

"Thanks," I say to her for the first time, "For helpin' 'em get me outta there."