She laughed, leaning back against the counter. "Yeah, but you get all the ladies with them. No one is interested in my flesh legs."
She squinted at him, looking extremely embarrassed. "Yeah, but that's because you don't have flesh legs, Abes."
She cupped his jaw in her hands, squinting at him. "I would pay so much money to have your legs. So. Much."
She dropped her hands, using the crutches to go over to the planning room. "Well, I think your legs are wonderful," she declared. "I love them."
She turned to him, standing in the doorway. "Plotting how to beat up your sister." She hesitated before raising one hand. "Sorry. I know she's family."
She visibly brightened. "Oh, good. Then I can plot without a guilty conscience. As soon as my leg gets better, I'm going to go back in."
"No, Abel," she said firmly. "That doesn't make sense. You know this stuff better than I do and I'm faster than you are, so if someone goes in, it makes sense that it's me. You're who she wants, not me. She can't do anything to you if I'm the only one who goes in."
"Yes she can," he told her. "She'll take you. Either she'll do that for information, or do it to draw me in."
