"What the hell is that?" Francine asked, moving in to look, and... touching distance. Breathing distance, and the baddest idea that ever came out of the Bad Idea Jeans Company, and she didn't care what the hell 'that' was. She just cared that there was breath. Warm, cigarette-scented breath.

Okay, second baddest idea. If you're Francine Peters, you can always come up with something worse. Like trying to kiss her.