by Peter Clines
“I doubt it.”
"164MIP">George, trust me. One thing life in a wheelchair has given me is amazing powers of perception regarding when women are interested or thinking of you as a friend.
St. George chuckled. “Great.”
That’s how I can tell Stealth’s really in love with you.
“What?”
I mean, I could tell at dinner, I just hadn’t figured out who she was. But she’s crazy about you, George.
“Thanks,” he said. “I needed to hear that right now.”
Thought so.
“One question, though.”
Shoot.
“If your powers of perception are so fantastic, why’d it take you so long to realize it was her?”
The gleaming wraith shifted in the air a bit. Honest truth?
“Sure.”
I know this sounds a little wrong coming from me, but … well, I always figured Stealth was white under the mask.
St. George laughed.
You know, probably some uber-blonde like Tricia Helfer or Rebecca Romjin. I wasn’t expecting Zoe Saldana’s hotter, older sister. It kind of threw me Trader Joe’shoofA c, that’s all.
“I think I thought that for a while, too,” said St. George, “and then it just didn’t matter what she looked like.”
A voice crackled over his headset. Zzzap’s head tilted, watching the radio signals buzz through the air. “Hey, boss,” said the voice. “It’s Makana over at the East G343" aid="164M