The Faint of Heart
"Jim Ellison's desk. Blair Sandburg speaking."
"Is this Detective Ellison's partner?"
"Yes, it is. How may I help you?" Blair tucked the phone under his ear, expertly dividing his focus between the caller and the report he was typing.
"This is Tonya from Accounting. We're down here in the cafeteria hosting a blood bank drive. And . . . ummm . . . you need to come get Detective Ellison and take him home. He fainted."
The phone fell to the floor.
Blair stared at the device in complete disbelief for a full thirty seconds. Hearing the caller yell out his name stirred him to action, and he quickly bent and retrieved the headset. "He fainted? Jim Ellison fainted?"
"Ahhh . . . yes, sir."
"You're telling me Jim Ellison fainted. Detective of the Year, Jim Ellison?"
An exasperated sigh rattled his ear. "Mr. Sandburg, do you understand English? He fainted, f-a-i-n-t-e-d, fainted. Please come get your partner and take him home. He's causing a disturbance."
"I'll be right there."
Blair slammed down the phone and raced for the stairs. He couldn't wait to see how the mighty had fallen. Hell, this was going to be fodder for countless jokes over an undetermined amount of time. A wicked smile brightened his face and grew larger in size with each step taken.
By the time he strolled into the cafeteria his grin was the size of the Grand Canyon. Immediately, he zeroed in on his partner. Jim was the only donor present with three people holding him down. A small group of spectators stood to the side, and from the amused expressions on their faces, it was obvious the detectiveís antics were providing them with quite a bit of entertainment.
Rafe waved at Blair from his perch on Jim's legs. Joel stood behind the stretcher and was doing his best at keeping Jim lying flat. One totally frustrated nurse stood opposite the Bomb Squad Captain, muttering to herself while attempting to apply a blood pressure cuff to her patientís wildly swinging arm.
Blair walked closer and positioned himself at the foot of the stretcher. He gazed admiringly at his friend's sexy physique, concentrating specifically on the naked expanse of washboard abs exposed by a tee shirt gone askew. The view was so nice, and since he was already in the neighborhood, he decided a visit to the well-endowed structure a little lower was in order.
Blair whistled his approval as his gaze stroked hotly over Jim's package of manhood. Licking his lips he prayed to the gods above for a mere chance at exploring that particular undiscovered territory. And even though he wasn't quite sure what manly delights he would encounter on that journey, he was more than willing to learn how to worship at the Temple of JIM.
Rafeís voice broke into his thoughts. "How Ďbout a little help here, Sandburg?"
"Sure thing." Blair shook his head in an attempt to clear away the erotic images teasing his brain. Moving closer, he caught Jimís arm and held it still while the nurse took a set of vital signs. Smooth skin and rock-hard muscles beckoned to him, and he was unable to resist sliding his hand up and down the arm he was holding.
"Okay, guys," Blair said, glancing first at Rafe and then at Joel. "What's going on here? I was told Jim had fainted. This does not look like a man whoís just passed out. This . . ." He waved a hand at his partnerís goofy grin, ". . . looks like a man whoís soused to the gills drunk."
Jim chose that moment to launch into a very loud and very lewd ballad. Blair cringed. He dearly loved his partner, but the manís warbling voice was one only a mother could enjoy without protective headgear.
"Hush, Big Guy." He slapped his hand over Jim's mouth and turned to Rafe. Further questions were stalled when all the blood in his lungs zoomed with ferocious speed to his cock. Questioning his sanity, Blair glanced wide-eyed at his friend. "What the hell?"
Jim was licking the palm of Blairís hand. Long, slow teasing licks. And the bastard was smiling, smiling like the cat that had snagged the tastiest canary in town.
Blair squeaked, and his cheeks suffused with heat when he felt a wet spot spreading across the front of his boxers. Jim had stopped licking and was now tonguing the space between Blairís thumb and index finger. The action was unmistakable in its meaning. He jerked his hand away but not fast enough to prevent his thumb from being smothered with saliva.
"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" Blair wiped his tingling hand on his partnerís cloth-covered chest. Big mistake! His thumb innocently brushed across a nipple. The sensation of the hardening nub grazing the moist skin of his palm put his fingers into motion, and before he knew it, he was plucking at Jimís tit.
The deed was not lost on its owner. Jim raised his head, licked his lips, and . . . growled!
Blair jumped back. He stumbled into the nurse standing behind him, causing her to spill a large glass of orange juice all over her white scrubs. She stood there silently, rivulets of orange pulp sliding down her uniform and pooling around her spotless shoes.
Green daggers of fury were hurled at all four men. "That's it! Get out!"
The nurse, whose name tag identified her as Margaret, ripped the blood pressure cuff from Jim's arm with enough force to almost pull him off the stretcher. Joel caught him just in the nick of time.
"Sign here." She stuck a clipboard in front of Blair's face.
Blair scribbled his name as directed and cautiously took a step back before returning the clipboard. If the saying, Ďlooks could killí held any truth whatsoever, he and Jim had better not waste any time planning for their imminent demise.
"Mr. Sandburg, this man is now your responsibility. Take him home."
During the time it had taken for the paperwork to be signed, Jim had somehow Houdini'd an arm free. Without warning he copped a feel of his partnerís ass. Blair jumped a mile high. On his way back down to earth, he fell against Margaret with the majority of his weight landing on the womanís size 6 foot.
"Ow!! The woman dropped her clipboard and fell against a nearby cot. Taking a deep breath, she glowered at the four detectives. "Please get out of here before I forget my oath of compassion and mercy." Grabbing a sheet, she dabbed at the wet stains on her uniform. "And next time," Margaret looked at Blair specifically, "please remind your friend to withhold all alcohol before donating blood."
Chuckling, Blair watched as the young woman retreated to a corner that was the farthest from them all. "Good move, sister," he whispered under his breath before glancing over his shoulder at the men still occupied with the task of keeping Jim securely on the stretcher. "Alcohol? Please tell me I didn't hear her correctly."
Abashed gazes avoided his questioning eyes.
Patiently waiting for a plausible explanation, Blair reached forward and straightened his partnerís shirt. "Iím listening," he encouraged before assisting Jim to a sitting position.
As soon as he was upright, Jim lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Blair's shoulders. Licking a wet path along the ear closest to his mouth, he whispered loudly, "Let's screw."
Blair pushed his partner back into Joel's strong arms and prayed his face had not turned a bright shade of crimson. For a long moment, he stared into a pair of slightly glazed, but happy blue eyes. "You asshole," he muttered before smiling and shaking his head. "Hold him for a sec, Joel."
Rafe was captured by the scruff of his jacket and hauled back to the cot. "Spill it, GQ," Blair demanded.
Rafe jumped out of the way when threatened by a pair of long legs swinging in rhythm to Jimís rendition of Barry Manilowís hit song, ĎCopacabana.í
"His name was Blairbear. He was a stripper. With yellow feathers in his hair and a shirt cut down to there."
Rolling his eyes, Rafe grinned sheepishly at Blair. "We got a lucky break this morning and closed out the Hodges case. Simon must have been feeling pretty good Ďcause he gave us the rest of the day off. Kind a like a ĎCongratulations, good workí sort of deal. We tried to reach you before you left campus, but your cellphone mustíve been turned off."
"Damn batteryís dead," Blair explained.
Rafe caught a leg that was swaying a little too energetically and prevented permanent injury to Sandburgís reproductive equipment. "Anyway, Jim was in a really good mood and took us all to O'Shannon's to celebrate. He had already downed several beers when Joel remembered the blood drive."
The dark-haired detective choked with embarrassment when he saw Blair scoot away from the foot that had gone on a search and discover mission of his groin area. "Our hero here," he continued, "insisted on donating his blood and conveniently forgot to tell the nurse that heíd had a few beers. Before we knew it, Jim was passed out cold on the floor, and that was from getting a look at the needle."
Rafe glanced at a smirking Taggert and returned the large manís grin. "We had just managed to get him on the stretcher when you walked in."
Blair watched as Jim smothered Joel in a hug. The black manís cheeks took on a hint of red when a loud smacker of a kiss went astray and landed on his left ear. Joelís grunt of surprise went unheard because a certain someone decided another earsplitting melody was due.
Jim reached out and snagged both Blair and Rafe the second they made the mistake of moving closer to the stretcher. "You gotta have friennnnndsssssss," he sang off-key. Grinning like a Cheshire cat overdosed on catnip, he looped his arms around their necks and rocked them side to side. "You gotta have frie--- umph."
Blair slapped a washcloth over Jimís mouth and effectively silenced his partnerís atrocious wallering. Lifting a finger to his lips, he made the universal sign for silence. Once he received a nod of understanding, Blair cautiously removed the cloth. "Shush."
Jim looked around furtively before whispering in a voice that could be heard in the jungles of Peru. "Shhhhhhhhhhh. Blairbear says we gotta be . . . QUIET!"
Blair turned away and hung his head in defeat. While staring at the floor he took note of a tapping shoe in the ugly shade of orange. Cringing he shuffled backwards in an attempt to escape the wrath he was sure was about to be heaped upon his head. His retreat unfortunately was thwarted by a demon dressed in a white sock, which by the way, chose that very moment to take a tour of his ass. Startled by the toes that were attempting to drill a hole through the denim territory of his rear, Blair stumbled straight into the arms of Hellís Angel of Mercy.
A splash of moisture hit his cheek. He wiped his face and stared at the droplet of orange juice collected on his finger. With horrified embarrassment he immediately recognized his error. "Oh shit!"
Moving at the speed of light, Rafe and Joel grabbed Jim under his arms, jerked him off the stretcher and ran for the door. The Bomb Squad captain yelled back to Blair. "RUN! Run for your life! Sheís about to blow!"
Blair snatched up Jimís shoes and turned to flee. His loafers hit the widening puddle of juice on the floor and down he went. Clutching his sentinelís odoriferous foot coverings to his chest, he looked up and sealed his fate. "Iím sorry. Iím soooooo very sorry."
Fiendish red eyes and a diabolical grin greeted his plea for forgiveness. Blair swallowed and searched the room for a priest willing to give him last rites.
"Superman to the rescue!!!!"
Scooping up his partner, Jim threw Blair over his shoulder, and, grinning wildly, began to swerve in and out of the stunned onlookers. He was met at the door by a breathless Rafe and a gasping Joel.
"Up, up and away!" Jim yelled while lunging forward.
Blairís cape-less avenger promptly proceeded to fall flat on his face, dropping his liberated burden firmly on his ass. Seconds later loud snoring assaulted the sound barrier.
Rubbing his bruised behind, Blair scrambled to his feet. With Jimís shoes still clutched in his hand, he made the mistake of looking over his shoulder and froze into a pillar of salt. The nurse from Hades was advancing on them with blood in her eyes.
"Fellas? I think itís time to haul butt."
The three men gathered up their resident Sleeping Beauty and fled the scene of the crime.
Confident that Jim was securely restrained by his seatbelt, Blair wearily waved good-bye to his snickering friends and pulled out of the underground parking garage. In an attempt to decipher the reason for his friendís behavior, his mind kicked into overdrive the moment he hit the road.
"Increased levels of alcohol in the bloodstream combined with a low blood pressure. Decreased oxygen saturation leading to mild starvation of brain cells. Lack of . . ." Blair mumbled on, absent-mindedly scratching an annoying itch on his inner thigh. He was soon distracted by his search for understanding and completely oblivious to his surroundings and his suspiciously quiet passenger.
"Heightened sense of sight focusing on feared subject with exponentially increasing levels of--- SHIT!!"
The truck swerved erratically, coming to a bumpy stop in a vacant store lot.
"What the fuck?!"
Blair looked down and was shocked to find a hand working its way inside his pants. Inquisitive fingers were mapping the entire length of his cock right through his underwear, and dammit if his bad boy wasnít enjoying the attention.
Releasing his seat belt, Blair wiggled in an attempt to . . . what? Escape? His body negated that thought as his hips took over all intellectual processes by humping the large hand clutching at his cock. Oh yeah, friction was good. Hell, rubbing skin on skin was even better.
One questing finger wormed its way inside the fly of his briefs, and Blair nearly shot through the roof. "Uh, Jim? Oh Goddess!" Eyes squeezed shut he struggled to keep from embarrassing himself. "Man, Iíve got to pray more often," was mumbled through a wad of sweater Blair had shoved in his mouth to quiet his moans. The gods had definitely answered his request.
Blair strangled a scream when the slit on the head of his cock was tickled ruthlessly. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as a fire blazed its way straight to his groin. "Good buddy? Maybe you should . . . Oh hell, right there, man. Jim, oh Jim. Ohhhhhhhh . . . FUCK!"
Torturing fingers retreated briefly but only in order to search out new territory. Blair jerked his hips up in response to the hand cupping his balls. "OH MY GOD!" Mouth hanging open he stared in disbelief at the invading hand. His fly was completely open with his jeans riding low on his hips, providing optimal space for the fingers inspecting his private parts.
Sanity finally knocked on the door to his brain, reminding him of the very public location of their sexual foray. Frantically Blair looked around and was flooded with relief when he saw the parking lot was virtually empty of witnesses. "Thank heaven for small miracles." Taking his lustful libido in hand, literally, he attempted to push his partner away.
"Jim? JIM! Whatícha think about removing your hand so we can get on home?"
Smacking his lips loudly, Jim raised his head and leered at his friend. "No way, Jose! Iím liking it riiiiiight here."
Blair sucked in a tortured breath of air. "I realize tha---Whoa Momma! Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmm!" Grabbing at the nearest solid surface, he accidentally opened the door of the truck. The consequences of his action never crossed his mind for his gray matter was too busy dealing with the expert removal of his underwear.
"Holy Shit!" Blair choked out between clenched teeth. Jerking sideways he slid out of the truck and fell to the pavement below.
Jim stuck his head through the open door a few seconds later. Resting the side of his face on the seat Blair had just vacated, he anxiously asked, "Blairbear? You okay?"
A hand was extended, but Blair declined the offer. Muttering curses in several languages he scrambled to his feet and dusted off his bruised derriŤre. "Rafe and Joel are both dead men," he declared through clenched teeth.
The helpful hand that was offered earlier brushed across his exposed erection. Blair lurched away and nearly had his ass kissing the pavement again in his haste to escape. Blushing hotly, he slapped at the caring fingers and returned his clothing to their proper place.
"Dead men. Theyíre all dead men," he announced to anyone listening.
Shoving Jim across to his side of the truck, Blair snapped the manís seatbelt in place and deliberately tightened the chest strap to just short of choking. He then quickly buckled himself in and directed the truck back on the road. Wandering fingers were appropriated and secured under one very sore Sandburg butt.
"Move it and you lose it," he threatened.
Snoring was his only answer.
"Jesus, Jim, you weigh a ton."
Blair kicked shut the door to the loft and struggled upstairs with his slumbering burden. Exhausted, he dumped Jim on the bed and slid down beside him. The thought of impropriety never crossed his mind when muscular arms and legs wrapped themselves around him and pulled his unresisting body to rest upon a rock-hard torso. He was tired, dammit, and if Jim wanted a Blairbear blanket, then so be it. Yawning, he settled his head on a not-so-soft chest, and within minutes, was visiting the Land of Nod.
Gentle fingers traced the features of his face before brushing across his lips. Blair smiled and nuzzled the pillow that lay beneath his cheek, thoroughly enjoying the dream-angel that was making lazy love to him as he slept. Turning on his side, he greeted the ghostly touch that visited both of his nipples with a drowsy sigh. The tantalizing sensation tarried for a brief moment before journeying lower.
Blair turned further onto his back and let his legs fall open. Their splayed position invited his dream-lover to stop and vacation in the neighborhood of his desire.
The name of his heartís desire floated into the silence. "Jim."
A deep husky voice that was as familiar as his own answered the call. "Iím here, Chief."
Eyes snapping open, Blair immediately took note of three specific irregularities.
One, he was sprawled across his partner's bed with his head resting in Jimís lap.
Two, a hand that was not his own was cradling the Sandburg family jewels.
And three, the aforementioned hand was connected to a male body that was completely and utterly . . . NAKED!
Forcing himself to ignore the territory his curls were tangled around, Blair cautiously locked gazes with the blue eyes smiling tenderly down at him. "Uh, Jim? I know youíre more than likely still under the influence of the alcohol you consumed earlier and, no doubt, will sure as hell regret all of this in the morning. I definitely understand the physiological factors behind your behavior, but I---" Incredibly warm and moist lips terminated his explanation. Blair struggled briefly then surrendered to the exploring tongue that invaded his mouth.
The kiss ended way too soon, leaving him dazed and slightly scared. Blair again searched the eyes that appeared to be alert and focused. Minutes passed as he attempted to discern the truth and sincerity that lay within those blue orbs. Questions plagued his sleep-disabled brain, but before he could verbalize his confusion, words were spoken that dispelled all his doubts.
"Iím not drunk, Blair, and Iím totally in control of my faculties. That includes my mind and my heart."
An uncharacteristic smile of shyness graced Jimís face, and Blair could not tear his gaze away from it. Even when affectionate fingers combed through his curls and fulfilled Blair Sandburg Fantasy #7, he still could not look away.
Actually, it was a good thing he was so focused on his partner. It soon became apparent that Jim was on the verge of zoning on a single curl, and Blair quickly brought him back online. What was happening between them was too important to ignore, and he sure as hell didnít want anything happening that would foul up things. He was capable of doing that on his own without the assistance of Jimís senses.
"Uh . . . Big Guy? Ya still with me?"
Jim blinked his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, Iíve been with you since the moment you walked into my life."
Blair attempted to sit up, but his movements were negated by an arm that wouldnít budge.
"Stay. Please. I . . . I like having you here."
His mind racing with the implications of those words, Blair settled back into place. He bit down hard on his lower lip when Jimís hand relocated to its previous resting place. The groan that reverberated up from his chest in appreciation of that move surprised the both of them.
Jim grinned, and his shy smile took on a hint of smugness.
"Jim? This is kinda undiscovered territory for me."
Blair lifted his head and examined his partnerís features. He thought he saw something, but of course it could only be his imagination. Maybe he should ask and see if his eyes detected the truth he had hungered so long for.
"Jim? I need to know if what Iím hearing is indeed what I think it is."
He turned his head and pressed his face against the muscular wall beside him. With a muffled voice he whispered softly, "Cause if Iím wrong and youíre not---"
Strong fingers gripped his chin and directed his face away from its hiding place. He opened his mouth to protest, but his words were hushed by the light sweep of a single fingertip across his bottom lip. His silence assured, Blair zeroed in on the hand hovering over his chest. A single word, a simple promise was uttered as the hand settled down over his heart.
Blair found himself lifted and gathered close to what he had always considered heaven on earth, the awesome physique of one Jim Ellison, sentinel-cop and friend-extraordinaire. He straddled a pair of bare thighs, and the position brought his awakening erection in perfect alignment with his partnerís. A subtle pressure had him pleading for more. "Oh Goddess! JIM! Yes! Please."
Blair found himself swiftly divested of clothing. A slow caress of tongue and lips roamed across his furry chest. Teeth worried the silver hoop that pierced his left nipple. Hands wandered over muscles and bone, gathering clues to hidden pleasure spots.
Gentle fingers were soon gliding over hardening flesh, their touch bringing a virginal blush to Blairís cheeks. "Jim! Iíve never . . . I donít---"
His embarrassment was acknowledged with the sweetest of kisses.
"I love you, Blair. Let me . . . please?"
Blair answered with a suggestive thrust of his hips, and Jim welcomed his decision with a hungry growl. It was quickly followed by a whispered admission. "You have no idea how long Iíve waited for this moment."
Blair moaned as a union of hands stroked rhythmically over his aching manhood, and it wasnít long before an invading heat signaled his impending orgasm. The evidence of his release surged enthusiastically from his body, coating both their hands.
Jim lifted Blair off his perch and positioned him back on the bed. He then knelt beside him and licked away the evidence of his climax. The wet caress of tongue was hesitant at first but increased in boldness when Blair vocalized his appreciation with husky whimpers of his loverís name.
Fire brushed across his groin, and he couldnít help but look to discover its cause. The sight of Jim swallowing his cock was instantly imprinted upon his brain. Blair writhed helplessly when he heard the sounds of greedy satisfaction coming from his new lover. Blown away by the sensations created by Jimís talented lips and tongue, he never uttered a word when minutes later he was slowly coaxed over on his stomach.
Feather soft kisses were pressed up and down his spine before the lips supplying those kisses discovered the damp hollow just above his buttocks. Every inch of flesh, every curve, every muscle that rippled with expectation was cherished, and Blair wasted no time in begging for more.
"Oh, Jim. I . . . oh, Goddess . . . I . . . oh, yeah . . . right there, babe. Ohmanohman . . . OH, MAN!"
Unaware that Jim was mewling like a cat on the prowl, Blair eagerly thrust his ass in the air when fingers damp with lubrication trailed over the puckered opening between his cheeks. One finger slowly fought its way through the tight ring of muscles, and in complete amazement, Blair felt his body open itself to the invader.
Extra lubrication was added, along with another and then another finger. Impatient need ignored any and all pain. Blair reached back a hand and gripped the nearest thing he could find, Jimís hip. He dug his nails into the warm flesh and tugged hard.
"Make . . . make me yours, Jim. Like now, okay? I . . . I canít . . . hurry. Please!"
Blair felt Jim shudder but before he could verify the well-being of his partner, he was turned over on his back. All words evaporated into nothingness when he saw the love and passion reflected in the sky-blue eyes staring down at him. A gentle kiss was offered to his heart while shaking hands gathered handfuls of tangled curls. Blair smiled tremulously when Jim sank his face into the strands of hair he was holding in his left hand.
"Make love to me, Jim. Make us one."
Jim went suddenly still, and Blair was afraid his lover had zoned but then gentle, callused hands were pressing his legs back, exposing his private place to a gaze that incinerated all thoughts.
"I love you, Blair. Youíre my life. The only man I want to give my love to."
The swift inhalation of air was Blairís only warning. Burning pain blindsided him for an indeterminate amount of time, and he was about to beg for mercy when the pain evaporated and in its place was pleasure beyond belief. The exquisite sensation was just that, exquisite, and the slower Jim advanced, the louder Blair pleaded for more.
"Jim! Whoa! Uh . . . come on! Yeah! Come on. Come on. Come on, NOW!"
Youthful eagerness finally won out over mature persistence. Blair reached up, latched onto Jimís shoulders and forced a completion of their joining.
"Yes! Iím yours! Youíre . . . Holy Grail time, man!"
His exuberant yelling was tempered by familiar laughter. Forcing his eyes open, Blair feasted on the loving smile plastered on Jimís face. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in all of his thirty years.
"Jim, I love . . . ."
". . . love you, Blair."
Slow, gentle kisses followed on the heels of their mutual declarations. Soon mouths were doing more than forming words; they were mirroring the mating of their owners. Sighs evolved into groans as tenderness was abandoned for roughness. And within the span of a heartbeat, slow and careful exploded into fast and hard.
"Uh huh. Oh yeah. Oh yeah. Damn, yeah!"
Blair clawed at the sheets and tossed his head side to side in an effort to shake loose the sweat collecting on his forehead and dripping down into his eyes. He wanted nothing to block his view of Jimís face.
"Jim! Gettiní . . . getting mighty clo--- Go, man! Go, go, go!"
Insatiable lips closed around his left nipple at the same time callused fingers scraped along the underside of his leaking erection. Blair shuddered, almost overwhelmed by the dual sensations. Jim upped the ante a second later by flicking his thumb across the head of Blairís cock. It was enough to push him beyond the limits of his control.
Blair buried his face in the pillow that had slipped free earlier and screamed for all he was worth. His scream was still echoing throughout the loft when an even louder one drowned his out. Jim slammed into him three, four times, choking off what remained of his yell of release when his body seized and then emptied itself.
"Blair, my sweet . . . ." Jim collapsed, and Blair caught him just in time to hear the final weary whisper of his name offered to the pillow still vibrating from his own screams. He delighted in the sound until it turned into snoring. Frowning, he flipped Jim over and playfully pinched the older manís nose until he woke up.
"What? What?" Jim mumbled.
Blair treated his lover to a mock glare, but let it fade into a mushy grin when Jim started nuzzling and nipping on his neck. His lecture on first-time post coital cuddling was placed on the shelf and promptly forgotten. The fingers tugging on his nipple ring and the ones tickling his balls were worthier subjects of discussion and would be addressed just as soon as Blair could convince enough gray matter to function. In the mean time he was more than happy to lie exactly where he was and enjoy the attention being lavished upon him.
Searching lips soon visited his tushie, and a thought popped into his head when teeth grazed a particularly sore area. Glancing over his shoulder at the man determined to devour his ass, Blair posed a possible idea for future encounters.
"Hey, Big Guy. I kinda enjoyed your Superman act from earlier today. Think itíd be okay if we got you a cape and a pair of blue tights?"