The fact that Dylan hesitates and allows it to be seen is telling. He'd be lying if he said a part of him doesn't want Fuller to know -- or, more specifically, to know him, all of him. Maybe one day, when the statute of limitation has passed and any soreness Fuller is harboring over the way the Horsemen's case went has passed. Maybe one day, when he's feeling brave or stupid or both.

"God, I feel like a fucking high schooler," he mutters, mostly for his own benefit. Like a kid with a crush, afraid of telling the person they like how they feel for fear of losing a friendship.

He rolls his eyes, huffs out a breath, and louder and with his mask pulled firmly back into place, he tells her, "I'll feel him out when we get home. Shouldn't be too hard to throw him back off the scent."