I've got a couple thigh holsters, mostly for guns. But, uh...
[She watches the progress of his hand, her lips quirking.]
... that'd count as risqué.
[Over the coat, he feels nothing, even if he prods: either the wool is too thick, the holster is too thin and unobtrusive, or he's found another dead end. After a moment's pause, Shaw decides to help him rule out at least one of those options, saying in a quiet singsong:]
no subject
[She watches the progress of his hand, her lips quirking.]
... that'd count as risqué.
[Over the coat, he feels nothing, even if he prods: either the wool is too thick, the holster is too thin and unobtrusive, or he's found another dead end. After a moment's pause, Shaw decides to help him rule out at least one of those options, saying in a quiet singsong:]
You're getting warmer.