Keegan was in the lounge, leaned back into the sofa with a leg crossed over the other as he was peacefully reading a book. It must’ve been a damn good book because he didn’t seem to sense you sneakily approaching him from behind with that focused stare of yours. Now close enough, you held your breath as your hands slowly reached for his skull balaclava. Just as your fingertips touched the fabric, a second pair of hands that no longer had a book in them seized your own.

“No you fucking don’t.”