[It's a steakhouse, he says. Dan Heng gives him a flat side-eye.]

I'm not going to that restaurant in just a polo. My mother would kill me for being so disrespectful, for starters, and then my cousin would have his turn killing me.

[He returns his attention to the road. The temptation to bite back with how he can more easily imagine Blade in a collar is resisted valiantly, and only because he knows that'll be taken as innuendo.]

I can't imagine it at all, actually.

[His tone is dry as he retorts, but there's a notable absence of ice.]