"I'm very fond of--" Joan's voice breaks as she slips, ankle twisting in her boot when the heel catches some black ice. She catches herself on John's arm, but not before she's half-straddled between the sidewalk and the street, head precipitously close to his groin.

Years of Krav Maga get her back on her feet before he can even help her up, but her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. The embarrassment quickly turns to apology when she notes, "You're bleeding," from five long gouges she managed to put in his forearm. "I'm terribly sorry,"