I kissed him. I can’t believe I fucking kissed him. I mean, of all the stupid things to do—nice job, Jason. Way to go. Sure, you can say it was the morphine, but we’d both know I was lying. He’s the world’s greatest goddamn detective, you moron. We both know I was doped up but lucid. I knew what I was doing. I made eye contact. It’s not like I was subtle about it. Jesus fuck.

But, like, seriously, man. How do you thank a person who’s just saved your life? What do you say to the guy that keeps your ass from being blown to bits? How the fuck do you say thank you and I’m sorry at the same goddamn time?

You don’t. Apparently you fucking kiss ‘im.

I can’t believe I did that. This is bad. Really bad. Insanely bad. Fucked up road-of-no-return kind of bad.

You don’t just kiss the Boss. That’s messed up. And weird. And why did I even do it?

So stupid. Dammit. I’m up to my ass in crazy.

Because…fuck…all I can think about is doing it again. Because he didn’t stop me.

He didn’t fucking stop me.