"And..." She starts, a slow smile crawling its way across her lips as her toes snap on a particularly awful awful future soap opera before snaking across the long lines of his legs. It's all deliberate, like she's swinging up onto a saddle, when her thigh crosses his hip, temple turned into his thumb. Nudged till he's at her cheek. "you'd have the added bonus of all the free sex you can physically stand."

It's one part honesty, two parts distraction: the longer they sit in silence soaking up idle contact, the less likely she is to let him actually walk out that door.

And he does need to, eventually.