[ McCree has already learned the hard (burning) way that Riza isn't fond of endearments or epithets of any kind. The hollow smile makes his blood run ice cold.
(Definitely his kind of woman.)
He unwinds the serape from his neck as he walks over to the rock he pointed out, folds it haphazardly, and sets it down on the ground. As he sits, he unlocks the body armor on his chest, popping it off; this, too, he sets down, on top of the serape. He's wearing a high-collared, dark brown shirt beneath all that, and he unbuttons it a little, lets everything breathe. This kind of thing requires absolute concentration, after all.
He sets both his hands--bionic, flesh--on the rock. ]
no subject
(Definitely his kind of woman.)
He unwinds the serape from his neck as he walks over to the rock he pointed out, folds it haphazardly, and sets it down on the ground. As he sits, he unlocks the body armor on his chest, popping it off; this, too, he sets down, on top of the serape. He's wearing a high-collared, dark brown shirt beneath all that, and he unbuttons it a little, lets everything breathe. This kind of thing requires absolute concentration, after all.
He sets both his hands--bionic, flesh--on the rock. ]
All right. Like I said: which one?