Nine O'Clock

She squints at him and bites the corner of her painted bottom lip, like she’s trying to figure out whether he’s playing dumb just to flirt. Well, she is pretty, and he’s not dead. Yet.“Look, dude. We both know what’s up here. There’s a team of black belts and badasses with big scary guns headed our way, so if you want to keep that hobo chic look blood-free, I suggest we start making a play for the exit.”