The first time it happened, Dyson had been at work. His phone went off, and glancing at the screen, Kenzi's name above the little text icon. Flipping it open, he read: Kenzi: Hey D-man, want to make out tonight?

He blinked, closed and re-opened the message to make sure. Yes, it still said what he thought it said. Caught off guard, he answered:

Dyson: Make-out?

It took a few minutes before:

Kenzi: Oh, God. Sorry! My phone autocorrected, I meant HANG-out!

Dyson was inclined to believe her, after all, Kenzi might say she's Team Dyson, but he'd always gotten the impression it was for Bo's sake.

Dyson: Okay, it's fine. Did you mean the Dal or the Clubhouse?

The second time it happens, he's at home- the familiar rhythm of his fists against the worn leather of the punching bag a soothing refrain. His phone goes off and vibrates off the counter. Grunting in annoyance, he grabs it.

Kenzi: I'm so hard up right now, want to come get me off?

Dyson nearly dropped his phone. If he were honest, it was more a text he'd expect from Bo.

Dyson: Kenzi?

Kenzi: Yeah, who else? Lol

Dyson: re-read your text.

Kenzi: :-0 Epic fail! I swear I meant I'm so HUNGRY, will you come get ME!

Kenzi: I thought that we could visit Trick and snag a bit of stew...

Dyson, stares at his phone a moment. Then he shrugs and shakes his head.

Dyson: Sure, give me a few minutes and I'll be right there.

The third time it happens, he's in a meeting so his phone is on vibrate. He slips it out of his pocket and flips it open under the table.

Kenzi: I'm thinking awesome red lace panties and matching bra, want a picture?

Dyson's mind easily and immediately conjured an image of the lithe, young woman in nothing but her underclothes. The uncomfortable tightness in his jeans and sudden flicking on of a projector light brought him back to the present.

Dyson: Kenzi, I'm in a meeting.

Kenzi: Ah! Sorry, sorry, it was meant for Bo!

Dyson wasn't so sure but he was willing to let it slide.

The fourth time it happens they're both at the Dal, he's playing pool and she's at the bar talking to Trick. He's lining up a shot when his phone goes off. He misses, and with a sigh, he backs up and grabs it out of his pocket.

Kenzi: want me to give you oral?

Dyson doesn't even hesitate, he stalks straight to the young woman and shoves his phone under her nose. He watches her eyes go wide, and she sputters, "I meant do you want me to get you another! Another beer! Beer I say!"

He gives her a doubtful look, but lets it go anyway. Trick gives him a look but shakes his head and says he doesn't want to know. Then Trick sets up two beers on the bar and Dyson takes then back to the pool table.

The fifth time it happens he's driving, intending to head home for a shower and maybe hit up the Dal for food that hadn't seen a microwave. His phone goes off and it takes him a minute to fish it out of his pocket.

Kenzi: I want you.

Dyson doesn't even spare it a second thought. He's sure she has some excuse, something else she meant to say, but thought had been bouncing around his head since that first text. This time he did not intend to let it go.

It doesn't take all that long to pull-up to the clubhouse and make his way to the door. He knocks and hears a shout of "Just a sec!" and then she's answering the door- in a pair of tiny shorts and a sports bra with a robe thrown haphazardly over it. He barely gives her time to blink up at him before he's pushing his way in, shutting and locking the door firmly behind him.

"Hey, Cujo, what's-"

He doesn't let her finish her sentence before he presses his phone into her hand. He watches her read the text, sees the blush, and he doesn't miss the way her eyes flick up and then away. She's fumbling, trying to think up something to explain this one away too. Dyson isn't buying it.

Instead, he leans into her, trapping her between his larger frame and the wall.

"Clearly," he grabs the phone and shoves it into his jacket pocket, "you have something on your mind." He shrugs off the jacket and tosses it over the nearest chair.

She's wide eyed and speechless, and he considers that a win.

He places his hands: one on either side of her head. Then he leans in slow, 'til he can feel her breath on his lips. "I think we should get it off, don't you?"

Then he catches her mouth with his, and there is little room for miscommunication. After all, he was very good at communicating this way- just ask Kenzi.