He touches his fingertips to the ruined edge of his eye, scooping the ice pack from between his legs. She might have done that on purpose. He winces and settles the edge of the compress against his cheek. "You know, the objective of modern healing is to help people, not play rough."

A single eyebrow arches (it hurts) when she suggests he's using the black eye as a lure. He removes the compress and holds up his martini glass, studying his reflection. "It looks pretty manly, doesn't it?" he asks. "Kind of says 'I'm a provider' and 'I'd let you tie me up if it so happened that you were into that kind of thing'."