Dean was enjoying the show, that much was obvious, but he still couldn't make heads nor tails about whatever it was Dempsey was rambling on about. He leaned back easily, back against the sofa cushions, hands landing gently on Dempsey's thighs, but that was it. There was an itch in his palm to press down, to wander, but he knew better.

"No." He'd seen plenty in his life, but had never considered them for himself. "Nothing against them, I prefer to be a blank canvas." Fluid, whatever or whoever he wanted to be, as memorable or as forgetful as suited his purposes. He knew Dempsey didn't either, was almost as familiar with the body under his hands as his own. The conversation and questions seemed to be coming from far afield and it was giving him pause. "Was that really what you came here for tonight, to talk about your new job and tattoos?" Were they not going to talk about last week? Dean couldn't forget that look on Dempsey's face before he'd left last time and had been beating himself up about it all week and this was where they were today?