" The door opens and a man walks in. Not the stadium security who brought me here, someone new. He’s in jeans and a gray long-sleeved t-shirt. The shirt is fitted. Fitted quite nicely, I can’t help but notice. Dude’s got some guns under that shirt. Guns? What the heck is wrong with me? I’m spending too much time with seven-year-olds. "

― Jana Aston , Trust (Cafe, #3)