Dean stared at her.
It was the long, flat stare of a man who had just realized the universe had given Sylvia free time and a plan.
"No," Dean said.
Sylvia blinked. "No what?"
"No," Dean repeated, more firmly, because apparently his life had become a sequence of saying no to women who did not respect the word. "I am not dressing up, I am not kissing anyone, and you are not stealing a war dog from the Crown Prince."
Sylvia's eyes narrowed. "I said take, not steal, and… I said nothing about a kiss." Her grin was feral. "What are you thinking of?"
Dean's entire soul attempted to leave his body out of sheer offense.
He stared at her like she'd just committed treason with punctuation.
"You absolutely implied a kiss," Dean said, voice flat.
Sylvia's eyes widened with innocent delight. "Did I?"
