Reaper Yates was stunned. Turning to the side, he pointed at the door and shrieked in disbelief, "What the hell did that girl just say? That we're… *lovey-dovey*… you and me?" He spat out the words with utter disgust, his face twisting as if he'd just eaten shit, completely repulsed.
Sean Quinn, on the other hand, was perfectly calm. He held up the ointment in his hand, suddenly in the mood to joke. "Aren't we lovey-dovey? See? I'm personally applying your ointment. Isn't that the greatest of honors?"
In his life, there were only two people he cared this much about: that girl, and the man right in front of him. It was understandable, then, why others might think he treated him a little *too* well.
"Stop messing around. Be serious... Wait, she doesn't still think you and I are... in *that* kind of relationship, does she?" Reaper Yates's eyes, set under thick brows, widened.
