Which was a neat way of avoiding her question and not committing himself one way or another.
"We're drowned rats anyway, so it doesn't much matter whether we stay here or not." But she gasped his warm fingers and let him help her up.
Pain slithered up her legs as she rose. She glanced down, and saw the rents in her pants and the scrapes on her knees.
She must have hit the concrete harder than she'd thought. "Oh great. This is going to make such a wonderful first impression."
"As far as first impressions go, you can't get much better than saving the man's ass last night. Even if you weren't supposed to be there."
"If I hadn't been, all of Stephan's carefully laid plans would have gone to hell." She plucked material from the wound on her left knee. Though the worst of the two, the wound wasn't deep, just nasty looking. "And besides, Wetherton was out of it when his ass was hauled out of that car. He probably remembers zip about my involvement. Especially since Brigg's handled all the follow up interviews with the man." Mainly because she'd been getting raked over the coals by Stephan for shooting their suspect.
"What time were you supposed to be at Wetherton's?" he asked.
She grimaced and glanced at her watch. "I start at six- thirty, but I'd like to get there just after six and look around."
"Which leaves time enough to buy a change of clothes, if you want."
"Could be a good idea. Wetherton doesn't seem the type to be impressed by drowned rats."
He grinned as he took her arm and began guiding her down the street. "Wetherton is the type to be impressed with anything that has br**sts and a figure. Even drowned, I think you'd qualify."
She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. "Have you had a personality transplant or something?"
His grin faded into a grimace. "No. But I saw that lightning hit you, and I guess I'm just relieved to see you're unharmed."
"Oh, I bet it hurt admitting that."
"I'm not an ogre, despite what my behavior may have made you believe."
"So you're saying the ogre actually does have feelings?"
"Very occasionally." He gave her a half smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that suggested his words were more a warning. "It doesn't mean that you—or anyone else— will see the other side all that often. I will never again get more than casually involved with someone."
"Sounds like you're setting yourself up for a very lonely old age, Assistant Director."
"If I make it to old age, I'll worry about it then." He paused.
"What can you tell me about this Joe?"
Meaning the subjects of his emotions and his life were officially closed—for now, at least. She shrugged. "He's been around for a while. He mostly used to talk to me in dreams, but lately we've been in contact through direct telepathic thought.
He seems to know a lot about my past."
"And have you questioned him about his identity?"
"Of course. He's more than a little cagey." She shrugged.
"There is a connection between us, a bond that goes beyond telepathy. I just don't know what that is as yet."
"Could he be another of Hopeworth's rejects?"
She glanced at him. "We're not actually sure that I'm a reject yet."
"No." He paused. "Is he military?"
She remembered the time they'd had coffee. Remembered the way he walked, the military-like alertness. "If he isn't now, I'd say he has been."
"Could you do a sketch of him? That way, we could search military records and see if we find a match."