“Wow. Uh, thanks, I think.” I hop off the counter and wipe my hands on my coat. Whatever was on that steel surface, I don’t want to know. But I would like to immerse myself in an industrial-sized vat of hand sanitizer, please and thank you. “Look, I appreciate the… whatever this is. Chivalry, I suppose. Though I question your methods. But I can handle myself.”
“How do I know you’re not trying to pull something?” I counter. “Maybe you and Mr. Refrigerator are working together. Good cop, bad cop. He scares me, you swoop in, and then—”
“And then what? I carry you into a kitchen and lecture you about personal safety?”
“Maybe it’s a long con.”
“That’s exactly what someone running a long con would say.”
B.E.B. steps back and gestures toward the swinging door. “Go, then.”
That throws me fo
