She carefully pulls herself to her feet, slipping her arm between their bodies as soon as she's erect. Her palm curls against his chest, keeping space between them.

She's grown used to his flirtation, the puffing of his chest and the posturing, the dirty little looks and impolite one-liners. But this comes off as all too different. More serious. And maybe it's just being alone with him in his room, something she never does; but she glances up at him, catching the look in his eyes, and it sets her heart beating a little faster.

She moves away, her mind lost in a tempest of confusion. She uses her own strength to get her over to the couch.

"I probably shouldn't drink all of this," she mumbles off-handedly, indicating her glass. "Guppy'd toss a fit."