Oh how I've wanted something of a story about Deacon and Luke. I would've loved some more pages.
But I'll take what I can get.
"I think I can like you."
"I think I don't care."
"I think you do"
"I think you're trouble."
"The good kind. Or at least that's what's I've been told."
"We'll see about that."
And then Luke smiled. No lip twitch. No grin. All even, white teeth. A real smile.
O yeah, he could really like this guy.