Jason liked to think he was calm under pressure.

Until you casually brushed a leaf from his hair and every single brain cell he had stopped working.

“Oh,” he said, very intelligently.

You smiled at him. Jason forgot how to breathe.

Keep it cool, Grace.

“So,” he blurted, voice cracking. “Do you, uh. Like… weather?”

What.

He wanted to get struck by his own lightning.