She smiles at him fondly, and maybe she fiddles with the front of her robe a bit, making sure she's both decent and framed nicely.

'Oh but we did give them an eyeful, don't you remember? They were talking about us for weeks afterwards.'

Her head falls to one side and she gives him a long look. And then she sets her champagne glass aside, uncrossing her long legs and standing. It feels like that happened to someone else, in some other world. In a way, it did, she supposes.

She crosses to him, and holds out her hand. 'I know you're not in a tux, but -- dance with me?'