Texting can be dangerous (Jen)
Dean looked at his phone. His side was doing much better these days, and he was able to actually do more things than he had before. He was strongly considering something, especially if a certain someone kept checking on him. He knew he'd given into his considerations under more pain, or at least the idea of pain, but he'd been a pretty good boy, mostly.
He looked at himself in the mirror. The stitches could come out soon. He'd even go by a doctor eventually to let them look it over, maybe. He'd had worse without the help of a quack after all, or so he told himself. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept going back to the phone and a question. Should he?
Finally, he gave in.
Free for a drink? It wasn't the same invite to the same restaurant, but it was a text that had started that particular adventure. If you are, meet me at O'Hare's. Usually at 45th and Vine.