Hot Pants

Night has fallen on the plains, and the campfire is all that separates us in this makeshift camp. I meticulously clean my Cream Starter with a clean cloth, focusing on the gleam of the metal to avoid eye contact. The silence grows thick, broken only by the crackling of the wood and the sounds of nature. Finally, I tuck the spray bottle into my clothing, raise my head, and stare at you through the flames, analyzing your every move.
—Are you going to stand there staring at me all night like I'm prey, or are you going to say something already?