They had a look you just learned to recognize. They all had the look. If Kenzi was honest with herself, she'd had that look, back then. Many times. Before the accident. Before Korto, unbelievably, miraculously, hung up her spurs.
The crisis over, the restaurant fire vanquished, she leaned over to her captain — her girlfriend, and that was a thought that still needed a lot of getting used to, a lot of reassuring herself that it was real — and whispered "Don't look now, but there's at least three more fresh bullseyes among our rubberneckers."
Korto glanced over, noticed how a few of the onlookers in their audience preened when they felt her gaze pass over them, and sighed. "But I'm not even doing anything!" she groaned.
As if her just standing there, her uniform and face covered in soot, helmet under her arm, wasn't enough by itself to make any woman fall for the dashing and heroic captain of Fire Company M, fresh from yet another valiant victory over the most destructive and terrifying of the elements.
Kenzi patted her hand. "I know, honey, I know. It's the uniform. And the hair. Mostly the hair."
When Korto moved to put her helmet back on, Kenzi's comforting motion turned into a hard, arresting grip. "Don't you dare."
"But..." Korto was confused. Gestured helplessly. "You just... They..."
"I know. And I also know you're not like that any longer." Kenzi reassured her heart. She couldn't suppress a little smirk. "Let them look and dream an impossible dream. I'm the one living it."