<i>Oh, snap, Old Man!  Game fuckin’ on!  I told you she liked you.  But did you listen?!  Noooooo.</i><br/><br/>When in the hell did he turn into Dr. Ruth?!<br/><br/>Charlette baring her raw feelings didn’t really surprise him, since she had alluded to it before, albeit discreetly.  Charlette baring a glimpse of her substantial breasts was calculated.  Or so he believed.  Three buttons remained undone on one of his flannel shirts.  On purpose?  More than likely, yes.  This close, her soapy scent was intoxicating, to say the least.  And really, what red-blooded (or<i>any </i>color of blood, for that matter) male would not steal glances at her delectable rack?<br/><br/>Her mixture of questions and statements floored him at first.  But then, deep down, Paul knew this day of reckoning was on its way.  He just wished its arrival would’ve been later rather than sooner.  An unwavering view of her mountain range didn’t help matters one bit.<br/><br/><i>Told you so.  Told you so.  Told you so.</i><br/><br/>So now he sings, too?!<br/><br/>Paul met her eyes, as he was never one to look anywhere else when serious matters were being discussed.  But especially you know where.  He considered this moment with Charlette just as serious, if not more so, as when Jemma asked for a second chance.  Were the walls closing in?  Or were the ceiling and floor also joining the walls in an ultimate tag-team?  It sure felt like it to him.<br/><br/>He swallowed hard, and it seemed to take forever for that swallow to get where it was going.  “I, uh, I had no idea you had feelings for me, Charlette,” he struggled.<br/><br/><i>Stop lying, Old Man.  You knew, cuz I told you.  How many times did I tell you?</i><br/><br/>Paul rubbed one of her long sleeves, always a fan of the feel of flannel.  “I seem to be getting it from all sides,” he said with a vacant look in his brown eyes.  “First Jemma, now you.”  His voice faded, while staring into her expectant eyes.  He felt like a cornered fox.  And the hounds were closing in.