Chance had never noticed how elegant human hands could be. Sign language made them dance, made them sing. He was distracted by the sight, and found himself nodding automatically, agreeing that he would go with the other man without thinking. Then it was too late, he couldn't go back on his word.

He disappeared into the house and returned in an old t-shirt and a pair of jeans he'd work to riding camp a few times. His clothes still looked a bit too good, too well taken care of, but it was the least pretentious outfit Chance owned.


The young man slid into Dorian's car, and leaned over to poke his shoulder. "Could you teach me how to sign too? It looks really cool ..."