"Fantastic." Leaves less room when Chloe leans in the barest second after he's done sipping away, mouth over his and the taste of rough, bitter wine. Not really a kiss but nothing shy or chaste-- just stolen contact in a non-verbal demand for his attention. Her legs lock across the back of his thighs, crossed just above her ankles.

"Nate can fly us to them, you and I can pick up the spoils, and the three of us can retire easy."