Then, from his pocket, he produced a small tube of high-end mint toothpaste he'd scavenged. He squeezed a bit onto a clean finger and offered it to her, his dark, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto hers. "Cleanse the taste, my heart," he hissed softly, a sound of pure, unhinged devotion. "It's okay, we will take care of you and the kits, nothing, not even your own body, will hurt you while we breathe."
The non-mated men of Snow and Leaf team were officially stun-locked.
But hearing her say it openly, hearing Exile mention the kits out loud hit them like a physical shockwave. Tommy, still dripping from his water bucket incident, looked like his soul had actually left his body. Marx dropped his meat bun.
Before the awkwardness could settle, the twelve men who had broken off earlier to scavenge came charging back up the trail, looking like they had just raided a luxury department store in the middle of the apocalypse.
