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Summary
Cynthia took a delicate sip of her drink, leaning back in her seat as she watched him with unrestrained amusement. Her tongue flashed across her bottom lip, chasing the lingering taste, and an expression that was decidedly wicked slipped across her lovely face.
“My dare,” she started, dragging the word out teasingly, “is for you to call Laurent.”
Makoto frowned, because that was too easy, and if he had learned anything over the years it was that no one in this goddamn team was easy. “What’s the catch?”
Cynthia smirked at him, pleased and a little fond, before it was lost to her excitement. “I want you to call Laurent, and I want you to leave him a…special message.”
Makoto stared at her for a beat, brain sluggishly trying to understand her meaning – before he flushed harshly.
Makoto should have said 'truth'.