Oh, she was nervous. How adorable. He could tell just by the way that she looked at him, but her response was proof enough as well. He shrugged it off and walked a ways with her in silence, until she broke in again. It seemed as though she was more anxious about continuing their little tryst than he had at first imagined; if she wanted to go home, it was more than just the chance of being found out that had her fretting. Of course he didn't take her notion of a search party seriously (nor did he much care whether or not the two of them wound up in Witch Weekly again, at this rate), but he didn't need to call her on the flimsiness of her little excuses if she was uncomfortable. He hardly wanted to press her into something she wasn't interested in doing.

That being said, he wasn't going to hurry along for her sake, either; walking took the time it took, and he still wasn't going to apparate or let her do so after they'd been drinking. With a casual shrug, Ben slipped his arm over her shoulders — because that seemed slightly less intimate than keeping it where it had been around her waist — and said blandly, "You are getting home. Not much further, now."

Ben allowed the silence to stretch on for a few more steps, then added in an optimistic tone, "I hope you had fun, tonight." Not that that had been at all in doubt as far as he was concerned up until the last thirty seconds of the evening; he just hoped that her nerves now wouldn't color the entire experience, looking back.