He didn't need to worry at all, her touch was only dangerous if she wanted it to be - and right now, Marie did not want it to be. "I used to do this all the time," she grinned a bit, fingertip swooping around, up toward his wrist. "I had a shop in New Orleans, it was on Bourbon. I even had a crystal ball. It wasn't real though."
But enough about her homeland, in all of its jasmine, fried chicken, and weed-scented glory. "You're not involved or anything, are you?" she inquired with coquettish innocence (an intriguing contradiction), gauging Danny's marital status. She doubted he was married but it never hurt to check to be sure, non?