Russ smirked a little. “I guess everyone has a type, huh, Milt?”
Milt swallowed. “Sure, I guess. So… let’s pay for the clothes and get to the target’s mansion.”
Russ smiled. “Sure. But these jeans are so tight, I might need you to help me take them off.”
Russ observed Milt’s reaction — a fraction of a second of panic, then a fraction of a second of desire, then back to his standard nonchalant smile. “Sure,” Milt said, shrugging.