"Kinda think that isn't the weirdest fucking thing around here right now," he says, shooting Neil a look over his shoulder--fighting the urge to stop at that touch and let it linger, even through the roughly patched leather. The jacket feels like armor. Not for the first time, he wonders just what it's protecting.
"I'm pretty sure I came here to ask you out. How the hell's that for weird?"
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"I'm pretty sure I came here to ask you out. How the hell's that for weird?"