His hand in hers stilled enough of the possessiveness for her to be able to examine the feeling. She disliked how easily she leaned toward a growing attachment. Something told her it was a familiar battle.
Anna frowned. Of course, money. It hadn't occurred to her that he was in a position of needing it enough to take a risky job. She wouldn't chastise him for it, or prod for more details. At his offered elaboration she'd narrowed her eyes and looked down at their hands, thinking.
The need to see that he was kept safe was still too strong to ignore, and she fought with distancing herself from it. It wasn't like her to involve herself that heavily in the life of a--
What, donor? Lover? None of the terms that came to mind seemed to adequately describe this, and dwelling on the phrasing only made her uncomfortable for reasons she couldn't quite place. A glint of something beneath the dark churning waters of her mind.
She walked with him into the great room with her piano and the canvas she was working on. He wouldn't have seen any of her in progress works before, especially not one with an undersketch visible. But she didn't bring him here for that, she needed distance from the distracting puddle on the table. She glanced at the ashtray atop the piano near her silvery cigarette case, thinking that the taste of smoke would settle her better, but she didn't make a move for it.
Damien was on her mind. Specifically his issue with finding someone qualified to take an important job. Her gaze moved back to Decker, lingering over his bare abdomen where the wound had been gaping not ten minutes ago.
"I have a friend in need of a capable hand," She spoke slowly, as if uncomfortable with offering solutions to him. Up to this point they'd mostly kept out of each others personal dealings beyond a surface level. "Clean work." She added, aware that it had sounded like she would throw him back into something illegal and unsafe. Though she wasn't entirely sure the job wouldn't be the latter.