Marlowe
His thumb was still resting against my jaw, and neither of us had moved in what felt like a very long time, the whole garage gone silent around us except for the soft, distant tick of a cooling engine somewhere behind him.
"You should sleep," he said, quiet, not moving away.
"So should you."
"Neither of us is going to." A small, tired almost-smile. "Might as well admit it."
I didn't have a good answer for that, mostly because he was right, and mostly because the space between us had shrunk to something that didn't leave much room for words at all anymore. His eyes moved, slow, from mine to my mouth and back again, the same thing I'd caught him doing once before in a recruitment line what felt like a hundred years ago, except this time neither of us pulled back to pretend it ha
