Kara rolled the body onto the canvas for John. "See? You can't say I don't care about you."
John slung it over his shoulder. It was depressingly light; that kid was barely eighteen. "I know you care."
She slapped him. "How is a killer such a bad liar?" she said.
Later, he pressed Kara against a wall, her heels digging in. "So, what'll you do for me?" she said.
John considered as he unzipped his fly. "Tomorrow, I'll handle the dirty work." Without Kara, he could make it quick and painless.
Kara smiled. "Dirty's a good look on you, John."