"I wouldn't have if we weren't here," he can say with certainty. "If it weren't for quota, I wouldn't have dreamed of kissing someone else." Anyone else. That's where he'd been at the time.

"It was easier, when we agreed to ignore quota. But that wouldn't have been something I did, either, if I hadn't already seen that you'd... be okay, if I wasn't. That you'd let me not be okay."

That he'd care about what K thought at all, which in this moment is a thought that lets him stroke his thumb lightly over the soft skin of the inside of Jesus's wrist.