"Oh fuck that." With a faint wave of his hand, ice clinking in his glass, Samuel readily dismissed Rylee's newest concern. "That's your business to handle. I don't do gossip." There were, of course, exceptions to this rule, not all of them tied to the carrying out of his work-related duties: There were tales enough Samuel might have thought worth retelling, but few involved consenting, unmarried parties engaging in relatively traditional courtship. This, he thought, was far more Lia's bag than his, and so far he had heard little that would even cause him to bring it to her attention alone.
"But." He paused, taking a lengthy sip of his whiskey, pointing to Rylee with an outstretched index finger. "I catch you two out in public and you're actin' all weird, pussy whipped, or otherwise sketchy, I'll call you out then and there." A broad and oddly predatory grin split his face. "That's what friends are for, y'know."