Sadly, your right.

Oilitis cringed as he looked out the window. The world outside looked a lot like what he felt on the inside, and he didn't like the look of it. To his side driving the car was Jordan. The game between them was over, and it was time to let go. 

"Can you please stop staring at me?" Jordan asked, not looking away from the snowy path.

Oilitis wasn't looking at the shorter man's face or overall body, he was looking at the man's hands. The hand with a fully man made missing middle finger, that was Oilitis's friend's handy work.

"I'm sorry. Can I walk you home?" 

Jordan looked over, a trace of fear across his face, but he did look back. "Ok."

Oilitis smiled lightly though it was filled with a crud humor. "I won't embarrass you Jordan, you don't have to make that face."

That face came from many many times when Otilio sexually tessed, not that Jordan himself found that very attractive.

"I don't trust you." Jordan said firmly.

"You'll have to, even with this being the last time we'll see each other."

The scary part was, he was right.