She finishes fiddling with her hair, and pushes it back over her shoulder.

'I don't want you to feel pressured into anything,' she starts, her brow furrowed, 'but I also don't want you to get the idea that I'm -- not interested. Because I am. Interested. Very much so.'

She turns to him, resting her weight on one hand and one hip, and after a moment, she slides down to rest on her elbow, head on her hand.

'I can be near you, and still let you have your own bed. If that's what you want.'