Trip jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his arm - Skye’s lucky he didn’t twist her arm and throw her on the ground. Damn, a month out of the field and his instincts were getting rusty. “Listening to the lovely music the DJ is playing,” he said. “Can’t you, like, hack this shit? One more Katy Perry song and I’m going to cut off my own ears.”
“Hello to you too, lovely night we’re having, great suit, you’re welcome for the way I hacked the speakers in advance. And, by the way, that is my playlist.” Skye slid her hand down Trip’s arm until she reached his hand, interlacing their fingers in order to gain full control over where he’d go. In this case, wherever she wanted to lead him. “The only van Gogh you’ll be is van going to dance with me. Right now. To Katy Perry. No complaining, you really don’t want to test me when I’m in heels.”
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