Cade looks like he'd rather be as far away as possible for the exchange, and has actually covered half his face with his hand, only leaving enough room to watch his brother in quiet horror and pray he doesn't do anything that will get them both thrown in prison or murdered. Hey, at least he can't be double-fired.

"None of that, mate," Callum replies, somewhat more amiably but still guarded, "you're not my type." You don't grow up wealthy with an entourage of fuckboys without seeing some of them lean toward a certain persuasion, but that doesn't make him any more comfortable with it in his personal space.