Not Immune

'Just tell me, Jasmine," he started in a matter-of-fact tone, not even bothering to give me a glance, while vigorously washing his hands, 'What are you playing at?" The cuts that had briefly adorned his hands were now completely gone.

'The real question is," I smirked slightly, giving him an annoyed look, 'what are you playing at?"

A small smile made its way onto his face, and, for some interminable seconds, he stared at me intently before averting his eyes and ...