“I wanted to see you bleed,” she finally answered, then yanked on the wheel, narrowly making it onto an exit ramp. “You could've just asked. I have a pocket knife,” he informed her. She snorted and continued taking turns, navigating down a long and winding road. “Oh, yes. And I'm sure you would've whipped it out and sliced open your palm at the first mention of blood,” she chuckled. “Yes, I would've.” “Why?” “Because it would've been you asking me to.”
