Coming into the room, Star scowled, “Damn it, Pinky, what are you wearing? You look like a –“

“Go-Go dancer? Because these are my work clothes, Star. My club clothes,” she answered him easily, fluffing her hair.

“I don’t like it.” If only he knew he was pouting. But she’d never tell him, it was too cute and she knew he was being serious. He was always worrying about her when they were apart. “You’ll attract the wrong kind of attention. You’ll attract the wrong kind of guys.”

“Guys like you?”

“…Yeah, exactly.” He wasn’t mollified. “Guys exactly like me.”