And, after three increasingly feeble protests, she lets him off the hook. He really doesn't know what he's done to deserve her mercy. Nothing, probably, and by the way his attention is reshaping itself-- the curve of her jaw leaks a beautiful shadow over her shoulder-- he's about to deserve it even less.

That's just how Maggie is, though. Grace where you never expect it.

He looks up, caught in a moment of distraction. He wonders if he'll catch shit for it. He wonders if she'll notice.

"Hmm," he murmurs. "Get you a ladder, or-..."

He looks around. A rusted old pickup is abandoned in the parking lot; Maggie could jump in that. He gestures to it.