Whitebark Stream I cut my bangs with some rusty kitchen scissors

He paused a long time before answering-- long enough that Lane got the idea that she might have bothered him. That frown he wore lent support to that theory. Lane was about to toss out an apology and beat it, but then he finally returned his answer.  

"What?" Lane spat, ears flying to attention. An amused smile and scoff followed quickly. His question had immediately sent her mind to a dirty place. Did she need him to give her something? Oh God, did she ever. 

The intensity of the northerner's stare hadn't wavered though, and Lane was left with the impression that he was questioning her sincerely, without any of the innuendo she had hoped for deduced from his word choice. 

"No, just your time," she assured him, smile twisting downward into a smirk.