[He draws a breath at the touch, which of course isn't doing him any favors as far as the skinny-as-all-hell factor goes. He's not in bad shape though, despite the lack of beef, and his skin is smooth and free from scars. In fact, aside from the penny-sized patch of pink skin on his thigh from that bullet wound years ago (a scar she's probably not going to see for a very long time) you'd never guess he's ever been in the line of fire.
Chess is no longer a thing. He's happy to forfeit.]
You are. I don't know what I'd do without you. [A joke, but also not.]