Kurt hadn’t been sure what to expect from the SEALs when he got the job, but he figured it would be a little more involved than sitting around in classrooms and gyms. Today was Wednesday. He’d been with the SEALs since Monday, always with the specter of Elisa just over his shoulder, and they hadn’t done anything other than sit around.

Okay, it was probably more complicated than that. The classes they took were almost certainly important in the course of their typical job out in the field. Platoon members didn’t all take the same classes at the same time, but they did seem to study a lot. If Kurt was going to bring Hap to life, he couldn’t just play the role of some meathead jock without two brain cells to rub together.

Sadly, Hap had been written as some meathead without two brain cells to rub together.

Every member of the platoon spoke Arabic, and they spoke it well enough to get through some pretty intense situations. Some spoke it better than others, of course. The hottest SEAL of all, Hopper, apparently had a flair for language, and he could translate pretty technical information. All of them could conduct an interrogation, though, and they took refresher classes to keep their skills up.

Hopper was learning some additional languages, though. Kurt had only been there to hear about Hopper learning the Kabyle variant of Amazigh, or Berber. Kurt smiled and played dumb. The Navy wasn’t going to spend the time and money educating a man on a small, minority language unless it had relevance to an area of concern to American interests. As someone who wasn’t American, Kurt had to admit to a certain amount of discomfort at the idea, but he kept his mouth shut. He was English, after all.

Christ. Haven’t they brought enough trouble onto themselves messing about with other people’s business? He had to laugh at himself. Of course, we’re ones to talk.

The SEALs didn’t spend all of their time studying languages and literature, though. They learned about demolitions, and they learned about weapons. And Kurt, because he was sitting around with them, learned about demolitions and weapons too.

By the end of the day on Tuesday, he could break into most basic buildings without a problem. The SEALs all thought it was just hilarious to have him learning this stuff, and to show him the very lowest level of this part of their training. They didn’t think he’d be able to get it, and wrote him off enough that they didn’t see him picking the locks or bypassing the security system when they showed him how. Their casual dismissal shouldn’t bother him at this point, but it chafed like ill-fitting shorts.

“You need to spend more time with them,” Elisa told him on Wednesday night, as they drove away from the base. “It’s all well and good that you’re learning about how to shoot people and how to throw a punch, but let’s be real. There’s a reason the studio shells out so much cash on stunt doubles for boys like you.” She sniffed and pulled out her tablet. “You need to get into their heads and figure out what makes them tick, if you want to do this character any justice at all.”

Kurt grunted. She didn’t deserve any more than that. Unfortunately, much as he detested Elisa, he couldn’t deny she was right. “Sadly, their interest in continuing to associate ends with their shift.”

Elisa blinked at him. “Come again?”

He kept his amusement to himself. “They’re not interested in hanging out once they don’t have to. I wouldn’t say they’re necessarily hostile, but they’re not open either.” He yawned and reached for a bottle of water.

“So tomorrow, invite them out to dinner. All of them. I’ll message Lt. DeWitt tonight and tell them it’s your treat. Don’t worry, the studio will reimburse you.” She gave a little laugh at that, as though it didn’t matter to Kurt whether or not he got paid for the stupid outing or not. “Don’t you worry, it’s all going to work out just fine. Leave it up to me, and I’ll make sure you get everything you need.”

Kurt shrugged. It wasn’t like the SEALs didn’t have other things to do with their evenings. They weren’t going to want to come and hang around with him, for crying out loud. They didn’t even want to hang around with him now. They wanted to be out in the field, fighting. They didn’t need to say that directly to him, he could pick that up for himself.

But Elisa was going to do what she was going to do, and he might as well let her do it. He’d save the fight for when it mattered.

Instead, when he got back to his room, he sent Elisa off to do Elisa things in her own space and took some time for himself. He’d gotten a decent workout on the base, although the SEALs had all laughed at him. Well, whatever. He wasn’t in a position where he was ever going to have to carry a hundred pounds of gear through the desert, thank you very much. He had a certain appearance he was expected to maintain, and he was pretty stacked for an omega. He was happy with his shape, and he made a lot of money with it, so he’d ignore their laughter.

His phone, now that he turned reception back on, had two messages. The first had come from his mum. It was five thirty here, so ten thirty there—too late to call under normal circumstances, but this was Mum. He sent a text first to check and make sure she was awake. When she replied in the affirmative, he picked up the phone and called.

“Kurt,” she said in a warm tone. “It’s good to hear your voice, son. How are you?”

Kurt smiled and curled up on his bed. “I’m a hundred times better now that I hear your voice, Mum. We wrapped on that rom-com, Moon Over Manhattan, last week. We had time to do the premiere of Star Wranglers, and then it was off to Virginia. How are you?” He looked around his suite. It didn’t look much different from his suite in LA or his suite in Manhattan. At least he had a roof over his head, that was the important thing, right?

“That sounds like quite a lot of flying for you.” Mum sounded exhausted, and he felt bad for making her stay up so late. He should have left his phone on. It wasn’t like he was doing anything useful all day, just wandering around and watching people.

“It was,” he admitted. “And it wasn’t fun, but everyone survived so there’s no harm done. How are you doing?”

“Ah, you know how it is. There are good days and bad days, and the more bad days I have, the better the good days feel.” It wasn’t a real answer, but it was the one she usually gave. It would always be the answer she gave. It wasn’t like her illness had a cure. “It’s been so much better since you turned eighteen.”

Kurt smirked. “I’ll bet. Have you got someone new to help you around the house, or are you still putting that off?”

“Oh, I found a lovely girl to help. She comes by three times a week, and she cooks and cleans. She’s Kurdish, and she’s still learning English, but that’s obviously not a problem. She’s done a fantastic job so far, and she’s such a sweet girl.” Her smile came through in her voice. “So you’re in Virginia now. Isn’t it a violent place? You hear such horror stories, but you can’t believe everything you hear.”

“I’m sure parts of it are. I’m on a Navy base most of the time, surrounded by big, strong, alpha SEALs. A whole platoon of them, evidently.”

“Are they really? I wouldn’t have thought they’d do that, keep them all segregated like that. I’d have thought they’d want to disperse them through the Navy.” Mum sounded more awake at that.

“Well, they don’t explain the reasoning to me. They didn’t even tell me they were all alphas; I figured it out by listening to some of the other folks on the base.” He snorted. “Their minds are made up about me, but I do figure things out and they’re all alphas.”

“Are they single alphas?” Mum’s voice took on a teasing note. “Because you know, that could work out well for you. You could meet someone good for you, not one of those Hollywood types.”

Kurt barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure. I’m pretty sure none of these blokes sees me as more than a pretty window dressing, which is what it is. I probably won’t be around long enough to change their minds, and that’s okay. I wouldn’t mind finding someone real, but I’m not sure the gung-ho flag waving type is ever going to be for me. Especially not an American.” He shuddered.

“So, you still want to come back to England.” She hummed. “Do you still feel English? It’s been a long time since you’ve lived here, you know. I know you come back and all, but still.”

“I don’t feel American, either. And it wasn’t my choice to stay in the first place.” He licked his lips. “But that’s neither here nor there. Someday, when I’ve made enough money to support us both for a good long time, I’ll come home. We’ll be comfortable, and we’ll have a nice, quiet life out in the country somewhere.”

“It sounds delightful, Kurt. Do you think you can actually do it, though? Step away from the cameras and the stage, and all the attention and the fame? The fans?” Mum sounded teasingly doubtful, not judgmental at all.

“I think it’s something to strive for.” He shrugged. “I won’t be young forever, you know. Some guys can stay attractive and productive over the long term, but not many. It’s only a matter of time before there’s a baby to worry about, with the way the studio has me carrying on. I’m careful, but things happen.”

“Kurt!” Mum chuckled through her laughter. “No one wants to hear those things about her son!”

Kurt grinned. “Sorry,” he lied. “But you know it’s true. Anyway, I’m just trying to think ahead, be ready for anything.”

“Well, try not to sell yourself short, lad. You’ve got a lot going for yourself. You’re only twenty-three. There’s a lot of life in you yet, you’re far too young to settle down on the moors with an old hag like me.”

Kurt grimaced. “You’ll never be a hag, mum. And you’d always be beautiful to me.”

“Aren’t you sweet? Are you still coming home for Christmas?”

“That’s the plan. Elisa is already trying to push back against it, but she can go to Hell if she thinks I’m going to spend Christmas on a bloody beach. I’m English. Beaches aren’t in our best interest.”

“No, no they aren’t, are they?” Mum yawned. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but I’m just about spent. It’s the new medication. I nodded off in my chair earlier, believe it or not.”

“I believe it, mum. Go to sleep. Take care of yourself. I love you.”

“I love you too, Kurt.” Mum hung up, and Kurt looked at his next message. Fantastic. He was more than happy to talk to his soon-to-be-fired agent. He always got maudlin whenever he talked to Mum. Talking to Josse would sharpen him up and chase all that softness away.

He called Josse back, and Josse picked up right away. That in and of itself was unusual. Josse usually liked to make people wait and call them on his terms. It was a power thing, reinforcing his clients’ place. Kurt had realized what he was doing for years, but he let it continue because Josse was getting him good roles.

SEAL Magnet made a lot of things less tolerable, and this shift in behavior strongly suggested Josse knew it.

“Kurt! Hey, how’s it going, buddy?”

Kurt pulled the handset away from his ear. Josse always shouted into the phone. Kurt didn’t know if Josse just didn’t know he was shouting, or honestly thought shouting improved reception. “It’s as good as it can be. You know, half the SEALs in this platoon think SEAL Magnet is a porno.”

“Hey, now, this is a great film. It’s a cinematic masterpiece, is what it is. More to the point, it’s going to put butts in seats, and that means more money in your pocket. That means more money in my pocket too, of course, but really, buddy, it’s all about you.”

Kurt snorted. “I’m sure. Look, what kind of kickback did you get for this one?”

Josse hesitated. “Look, you signed the contract.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I trusted you enough to take your word that this ‘fantastic new military drama’ was going to be good. I trusted you enough to sign before I’d read the script. For the record, that ends today. It really ended the day I got the script, but you’ve been incredibly elusive since then.”

“Oh, come on, Kurt. You know the script is just fine, and you’re too young to be all that picky with your scripts. Brad Pitt wasn’t that picky with his roles at twenty-three. Neither was Clooney. If you want to make it, you’ve got to make sure you get a good reputation and make the decision-makers happy.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, this is the kind of drivel I’m more than happy to leave to someone, how should I put this, younger and hungrier. I’m pretty sure the writers never met a SEAL. Or a Sailor.” He checked his fingernails. “Listen. This affects your career too. When this flops—which it will, after the first line of dialog—you’ll have a harder time finding roles for me. One movie isn’t going to kill my career. I’ve got a pretty long filmography, and I’m pretty sure I can find another production as soon as this one wraps. But from now on, I’m reviewing everything. Which, to be honest, I should have been doing from the start.”

Josse scoffed, but his laugh had a note of strain to it. “Oh, come on, what, when you were twelve? Really?”

“Are you honestly trying to convince me my father had my best interests at heart when he signed contracts in my name?” Kurt let his voice go absolutely cold.

“Well, I mean it was in his best interest to get the best possible deal for you, so in that sense, maybe.” Josse winced. “I know it didn’t actually work out that way, but the projects he chose were legit.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Kurt, I’ve been doing this for a long time. You’re still a kid. You’ve got to sit back and trust that I’m the expert here.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Kurt walked over to the window. He could see the base from here. Only three days and he hated the place already. “I’ll take that under advisement. But I’m not signing anything until I’ve read a script.”

“Well, if that’s your final word, Kurt.”

“Excellent. Have a great night, Josse.” Kurt hung up the phone and climbed up onto the windowsill.

That conversation, while necessary, hadn’t gone as well as he’d have liked. He was still stuck out here in Virginia, with the SEALs, and he’d wind up in worse places if Josse had anything to say about it. He needed to calm down. There wasn’t anything he could do about Josse right now, unless he fired him. He didn’t want to do that until he screwed up again—he’d given him a warning, now he had to wait.

He crossed his legs and braced his back against the window. Maybe a little bit of meditation would help.

* * *

Dom joined the others in the morning room fifteen minutes before Hollywood got there. It did occur to him it might not be appropriate for the platoon to have given McNeil a nickname, but it was done and Hollywood was appropriate for the kid. In a way, it was better than thinking of the kid by name, anyway. Hollywood could be anyone.

The whole “fifteen minutes late” thing had been Hollywood’s idea. He’d gone up to Chief before dismissal on Monday, and he’d spoken with him quietly—and alone. On Tuesday, the kid showed up fifteen minutes late, and Chief and DeWitt covered anything sensitive in that fifteen minutes.

Dom didn’t think much of people who were late for things on purpose, but he didn’t expect any better from a guy who’d shown up late to the Oscars with not one, but two dates, and sex hair to boot.

Hollywood was late again on Wednesday, and now on Thursday Dom was just pissed off about it. “If any of us were fifteen minutes late, every day, we’d be written up and disciplined,” he groused to Tinker.

“Ah, cut the kid a break, Van Heel.” Lupo elbowed him. “Maybe the kid can’t read the clock.”

Chief cleared his throat from up at the head of the room. “You done?”

All three of them sat up a little straighter. No one, no one at all, wanted to run afoul of Chief. “Yes, Sir.” Dom met Chief’s eyes.

“Good. I got a message from Ms. Sommer last night. Our guest, Hollywood, wants to treat us all to dinner this evening. I told her on such short notice I couldn’t be sure that everyone could make it, but I’d pass the message along and see who could make it.”

Dom wrinkled his nose. “Seriously, Sir? Isn’t it enough that we have to babysit him during the day, we’ve got to go hang around him at night, too?”

Buelen stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Ah, come on, Van Heel. It’s free food. I’ve never known you to turn down free food before.”

“It’s not that.” Tinker shook his head. “Van Heel’s right. Our time, after we’ve been dismissed, is supposed to be our own. We’re not his toys or his test subjects, you know? I signed up to put myself on the line for the Navy, to fight for my country, and do what had to be done. I didn’t sign up to be some limey’s butler.”

Hopper frowned. “Going to dinner with him is hardly ‘being his butler.’ Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be fighting the enemy than playing PR, but we signed up to do what we’re told and shut up about it.”

Iniguez crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t be the only one who thinks this relates to the whole White Dawn thing, and us running into them again the last time we were in Europe.”

Van Heel rubbed at his temples. “Okay, that just pisses me off. Someone is so pissed off that we’re running into their pet white supremacists that we’re stuck hanging around with some spoiled Hollywood brat instead of fighting terror? That’s bullshit. I’m sorry. We signed up so we could keep America safe, not keep America entertained. Sir,” he added, lest he sound insubordinate.

DeWitt smirked, just a little bit. “I truly do understand where you’re coming from, Van Heel. Nevertheless, the Navy’s decided in their infinite wisdom they want to encourage this recent fascination with Special Forces units and with the SEALs in particular. So when a well-known filmmaker wants access, they’re going to get what they want. If it helps you to think of it as a battle on the propaganda front, then you go ahead and do it. But I’m going to need a good number of you to be there tonight.”

Hopper bowed his head, and then he raised his hand. “Can we bring our partners? I can’t say if Ben will be comfortable leaving Cam yet, or if he’d want to go somewhere that might have paparazzi, but if this is what you need, I’ll try to make it.”

Kiss-ass. Van Heel rolled his eyes and shook his head. He liked Hopper, he did, but the guy had a tendency to be a little too eager to please sometimes.

Of course, once Hopper volunteered, other people raised their hands. Not everyone could go, of course. Kelly, for example, had to make some calls about child care, and Fitzpatrick had a kids’ thing to do with his son. But most of the guys agreed to go.

Getting to that point took up their fifteen minutes of grace before Hollywood chose to honor them with his presence, at which point any honest conversation had to be dialed back. They went about their business, with Hollywood heading down to the firing range to learn how to handle a gun safely.

At least Adami and Chief were handling that. They didn’t even give anyone else a chance to volunteer. Chief just looked the kid up and down. “I’ve seen your movies. I’ve seen the way you think a gun should be handled, and boy, you’re going to get someone killed. They’re going to pick up a gun, think the way you do it is the right way, and blow their dick off or worse. Come on. We’re fixing that.”

The kid was too stupid to flinch, or even to look ashamed. He just shrugged, like he was admitting to the deficiency, and followed Chief and Adami to the range. Dom shook his head. He probably couldn’t do too much damage on the gun range. Chief and Adami wouldn’t let him get into too much trouble down there.

He dreaded the evening, but by the time dinner rolled around, he found everyone else had more or less resigned themselves to it. He couldn’t say they would have chosen this over spending time at home, and those guys with families welcomed the chance to take their husbands out without the kids for once.

Apparently, Sommer made reservations at a local restaurant. Dom hadn’t been there before, but he’d seen it. It wasn’t a chain. It was nice enough that none of the guys would have gone there on their own, but casual enough that they could all go in their street clothes.

Sommer had gotten them a private room toward the back of the restaurant. Dom knew Hollywood hadn’t had anything to do with it because he looked startled when he saw it. “This is…interesting,” he told his keeper.

Dom hadn’t heard so many words out of the kid since Monday.

Sommer gave Hollywood a scathing look. “I told you I’d take care of it, and I did. Just smile and do your job. Try to learn something so it’s not completely wasted, would you?”

Dom backed away. He was pretty sure no one was supposed to overhear that little exchange.

Dom explored their private space rather than listen in on their private conversation. Sommer might have the same opinion of Hollywood that the rest of them had, but she’d done right by the kid and gotten them a pretty nice space. It was a generous space, with plenty of elbow room even with the extra spouses. They had a balcony, too, that gave them an ocean view, and an open bar.

Dom made a beeline for the open bar. If he was going to have to spend time around Hollywood, he was going to make sure he got the good stuff. He ordered himself a rum and Coke and found Iniguez, who had the same idea. “So,” he said by way of starting things off. “This is kind of nice.”

Iniguez shrugged and sipped from his drink. He came from money. None of this would be anything to him. “It’s not bad. More than I usually get on a Thursday night, I’ll tell you that. Does it seem a little weird to you, though?”

Dom glanced back over at Hollywood, who stood off by himself near the fireplace. He didn’t reach out to anyone, but seemed to be listening and watching everyone. Dom tried to tell himself it was creepy. After what he’d heard, it just seemed sad. “I guess he’s supposed to be seeing how we interact in the wild or something.” He made himself snicker.

“Lord.” Iniguez grinned and leaned against the bar. “Don’t you think he’d talk to us or ask us questions or something?”

“Not my problem. I hope the movie flops.” Dom took a big gulp from his drink. “It’s weird. Maybe he’s shy.”

“Isn’t he the guy who did the stunt with the nude beach? Right before he fired his own dad?” Iniguez side-eyed Dom. “Shy. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Jesus. He fired his own father? What a dick!” Dom chuckled. “Okay. Whatever. You spend a lot of time reading the gossip rags, don’t you?”

“Kind of.” Iniguez didn’t even blush. “For one thing, my family’s company does advertise in them, so yeah. And they’re interesting. So many of these people are living these lives that would get rejected from the average telenovela as being too unrealistic.” He snickered into his glass. “Remember when that one singer was married for fifty-six hours?”

“Oh, how could we forget that one?” Dom and Iniguez traded bad tabloid stories back and forth until dinner was served. They hadn’t even noticed the buffet being set up along the back wall, but there it was. Now that Dom could smell it, he found he was starving.

He bumped into Hollywood while they were both reaching for a chicken dish, something with mushrooms and a cream sauce. “Pardon me,” Hollywood said, and backed off.

“I’m pretty sure there’s enough chicken there to feed us both, kid. And the entire fleet besides.” Dom made a face. “Did you think you’d get everyone stationed in Virginia Beach or what?”

Hollywood looked away. Dom had managed to stay away from him, but now that they were so close together he had to admit the kid was pretty, with his soft, full lips and that downy beard of his. “Yeah, I’m afraid I didn’t have much to do with it beyond footing the bill. Elisa arranged everything.” He glanced over at his assistant, and if Dom wasn’t mistaken he’d call it a glare. “I’m hoping we can avoid wasting the leftovers. Is there a homeless shelter in Virginia Beach we can donate the leftovers to?”

Dom frowned and curled his lip. How was he supposed to know? “I honestly have no idea.”

Hollywood gave that vacant little smile again. “Jolly good..Well, thank you.” He looked around, like he was hoping someone would come and save him from this conversation. No one did. “So. Van Heel, right? How long have you been in the Navy?”

“Um, eight years. Why?”

Hollywood smiled at him, and it was like something big and powerful and hot just slammed into Dom. He’d heard the old myths about Cupid’s arrow, and he’d dismissed them as old superstitious claptrap. He understood why people used to believe in that stuff. He’d come into this room with a powerful resentment toward Hollywood, but one megawatt smile and he was ready to drag the guy back to a room or even a car and just screw his brains out.

Dom wasn’t usually that guy. It wasn’t easy to have a long-term relationship when you were liable to get deployed at a moment’s notice, but Dom did his best. He’d been raised to have respect for himself and his partner, and for the sex act itself. All of that was going out the window right now.

Hollywood smirked at him, but his face went back to his smile quickly. “Should we sit down?”

“Let’s do that.” Dom put a hand on Hollywood’s back to steer him toward an empty seat.

What the hell was wrong with him? Had he been drugged? He didn’t feel mentally fuzzy or out of control. He just felt a sudden outpouring of lust he’d never experienced before. He was probably sober. A guy had to have a lot of charisma to be a Hollywood heartthrob, right?

They took their seats, and Hollywood leaned forward just a little bit. Those dark eyes of his heated Dom’s blood. “So again—you’ve been in the Navy for eight years. You enlisted right out of secondary school, then?”

Dom scoffed. “High school, man. You’re playing an American, you have to talk like an American.”

Hollywood made a face. “I’m still researching this guy. I don’t have to actually be this Hap fellow for some time yet. A fact for which I must admit I’m grateful.”

“Not a fan?” Dom scoffed. “You agreed to the role.”

“I suppose I did.” Hollywood sighed. He poked at his dinner for a moment, and then he brightened up. “So you knew, right in high school, that you wanted to be a SEAL?”

Dom laughed at Hollywood. “Being a SEAL is something to dream about. Almost nobody actually makes it, even if they go out for it. Didn’t they tell you this stuff?”

“I did a quick search on Wikipedia.” Hollywood ducked his head and blushed, prettily. “I wanted to know if it was something you, specifically, wanted before you joined up, or if it’s something you found over time.”

Dom had to think about that one for a moment. “Well,” he said, after a moment, “like I said, it’s something you dream about. The SEALs are the biggest, the baddest, the best. But you don’t go in saying, ‘Oh, I’m going to be a SEAL.’ You’ll just set yourself up to be miserable. Every man in my family has served our country. It’s just what we do. I picked the Navy because I liked to swim, and that was it.”

Hollywood’s laugh was like little bells. “Seriously? And you’ve been putting your life on the line because you like to swim?”

Dom frowned and put his fork down. “Look, if I’d gone into the Army I’d have been a Ranger. The Air Force and Marines have Special Forces branches too. Now obviously the SEALs are better, but I’d have wound up in Special Forces no matter what. We all would have. Enlisting is what makes us different—we all have different reasons, and of course we’re all volunteers so we ain’t like anyone else in the country to begin with. But we’d all have wound up doing the same kind of work.”

“Ah. I see. And your reason was a tradition of service.” A little line appeared between his eyes. “Did you feel as though you had any other options, or was it just what you did?”

“The hell kind of question is that?” Dom tilted his head to the side. He wanted this guy, but he couldn’t understand why he’d ask a question like that.

“I’m just trying to understand why people go into this line of work. I don’t mean to offend.” He held up his hands and looked down at the table.

“No one forced me. Like I said, my whole family served, now it’s my turn.”

Hollywood gave him a little smile that was faker than a three dollar bill, and went back to his meal.

Dom turned back to his plate, ready to give up on any hope of anything happening. It had been a foolish thought anyway. He didn’t even want Hollywood for more than a night, he just wanted one shot. He’d live, though. If the guy couldn’t understand basic concepts, they wouldn’t have anything to talk about.

That was when Sommer approached. She put a hand on each of their shoulders. “You two seem to get along swimmingly,” she said, with that huge, creepy smile of hers. “You know, if you wanted to continue your discussion in private I’m sure no one would be offended.”

Dom looked up to meet Hollywood’s eyes, only to find him looking over at Sommer and not with affection. Then he looked back at Dom, though, and he smiled again. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said.

Dom didn’t wait to be told twice. He held out a hand. It wasn’t his usual MO, but it had been a while, the guy was hot, and apparently willing. He’d take it.