Taking her chances and got lucky, huh? Ben couldn't help but grin. "Maybe we both did," he said. She had leaned forward even farther, to the point where Ben didn't really have any more distance to close without bringing the two of them into contact. She wanted to be kissed, that much was clear. Her body language could be saying nothing else. She may not have even realized what she was asking for, if she was as inexperienced and naive about these things as most girls in her position, but she was sending the signals loud and clear all the same. Regardless, he wasn't going to kiss her here — he wasn't drunk enough to go kissing girls in full view of the public, even if that public was a gang of random Irish Muggles.

"Let's get some air," he suggested with a smile, changing the position of his left hand so that it was a gentle tap on her arm — as though he were trying to get her attention at a busy party, not as though he'd been softly feeling her up for the past ten minutes and was only changing tact now. He finished the rest of his drink, which wasn't difficult to do. Somehow he'd gotten down to only an eighth of a glass or so remaining, though he didn't really remember having gone through that much. He must have been too focused on her, he supposed, because he certainly hadn't had enough to drink to consider himself intoxicated. Though he had started to notice those telltale signs in her, particularly in her articulation (or lack thereof), he still didn't think either of them qualified as properly drunk or even tipsy — certainly not so much so that either of them would regret this tomorrow morning.