"Soft?" Stray snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, Locke walked past me this morning. Normally he looks at you like he's trying to calculate how long it takes to break a man's collarbone with two fingers. Today? He looks at me, nods, and goes, 'Morning, Stray.' I nearly dropped my helmet. Thought I was being ambushed or set up for a surprise drill."
"I'm tellin' you, it's her," Riff laughs. "She domesticated the beast. Next thing you know, Locke's gonna be hostin' Sunday brunch at his place."
"Try saying that to his face, Riff," I say, wiping my brow with my forearm and shooting him a sweet smile. "I'm sure he'd love to hear your thoughts on his domestic life and his baking skills."
"Hey now," Riff holds up his hands defensively. "I like my teeth right where they are in my jaw,
