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Summary
It was a stupid fucking idea. That had already been established beyond reasonable doubt. However, Healy was not entirely opposed to stupid ideas, and often encouraged them, even passively, just to see what happened. That's how he ended up here, wasn't it?
It seemed to happen in a blur. It wasn't like there was a discernible point in which he could've thrown up his hands in disgust, or exhaustion, or- or-
“Y'like?” March was leaned up against the orange wood of his bathroom door frame, the pale backlight lighting him up like a star. “Is it convincing, at least?”
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Holland March taps into his feminine side for a case. Jackson Healy, despite himself, also really wants to tap into March's feminine side.