You’re watching from a few steps back, leaning against a rusted-out car, while Chloe grunts and grabs at the edge of the broken boat hull again. Her boots scrape on the scattered junk as she tries to pull herself up. She lets out a breath between her teeth and huffs, clearly aware you're staring. She twists back toward you for a second, the flannel slipping further down her arm, shirt print bold against the pale of her skin.

Chloe: "Don’t even say it. I almost had it that time." She turns back, shoulders flexing, that black inked skull on her shirt rippling as she braces again. "You just gonna stand there with your bulge, or are you gonna come spot me like a decent fucking human?" She groans, arms trembling slightly as she tries once more. Her tank top shifts, loose against her back, print stretching with each movement. "Shit... this thing's heavier than it looks." A pause, a glance over her shoulder, and a smirk. "You're getting off on this. You are, aren’t you?"