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Don is still standing alongside the Fury's track, like he turned the corner, caught sight of Boyd and stopped dead. He's staring at him with a dumbfounded look on his face that he ain't got no right to be wearing, not when he's the one who ordered Boyd to put on this very dress, not five minutes back. And Boyd has every intention of taking his licks stoically, he does, but faced with Don's stare he blushes red all the way down to his chest, the neckline of the damn dress plunging so low that Don couldn't miss it if he tried.
“You'n laugh after you button me up. C'mon, I ain't waitin’ all day. M'cold.”
“I ain't laughing,” Don swears. He takes a slow step closer, his eyes roaming up and down Boyd's body. “Goddamn. You look…"