“I’m turning you in” the words taste like poison in your mouth, they lacked conviction, he hated them anyway.

He chuckles. "yes yes I believe you dear" he's teasing. But all his spunk- the showman persona was drained out of him. The league has been roaming for months, he needs a new prosthetic, he's cold, you're warm, and he's tired. If you attacked him right now he wouldn't fight back, he's hoping you buy into the act he's putting up, or maybe moments of passion shared in the past would soften your heart.

With trembling fingers and a heavy heart you reach for him. In an obviously calculated motion he grabs your wrist and twirls you into his arms, where you belonged. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy. "Go ahead, cuff me" you can see his smug expression through his tone. "you-" you could feel your body heating up. This man, you've never seen his bare face- not once, but you were utterly gone for him already.

Forward, backward, a gloved hand resting on your waist, the other forcing its way in between you fingers. "what are you waiting for..". His voice is weary however, hope is all he can do, that you'll pick him this time, abandon your duties, and the guilt that came with it...for him.