"I wouldn't want to meet me in a dark alley," Kate says with a soft smirk and pushes her fingers half across the table to touch the back of his hand before flipping hers over palm up. It's mostly an invitation for him to "see" for himself from the calluses that haven't smoothed yet even after a month on the island, microscarring from gunpowder burns, strength in the curl of her fingers and her forearm.

"Unless it was pre-arranged and there's kneeling involved." That's sort of an invitation too, but there's something about Auggie that makes it lighter, more playful and less want to get the fuck out of here? She likes talking to him.