Ozymandias' heart leapt into his throat. So much for finishing his cigarette and saying adieu. He'd been foolish to think that this was a safe topic of conversation; foolish to think that any topic of conversation could be considered safe around her, in this environment, with this need nestled in his chest. He glanced down, away from her face, and watched the way her fingers moved slightly across the back of her hand in front of her. If he had been seeking a refuge while he grappled with her offer, he'd chosen poorly; watching her hands was not any less evocative than meeting her eyes.

He dropped his eyes lower still, to where his own hands held the cigarette. A lazy tail of smoke curled up from the end of it. Without thinking he flicked it, dropping a bit of ash from the end. Cheating himself out of whatever time that equated to. He wasn't going to make it to the end of the cigarette, anyway. Not if she was intent on propositioning him. There were only two ways to respond: yes or no. Either would end their current game of cat-and-mouse. If he rejected her here, he assumed the conversation would end. He'd go back to the lobby, to see whether his family was still lingering or whether they'd bored of waiting for him and already departed, for home or for late-night parties. If he said yes...

"I don't want to do anything that would damage your costume," he remarked, dispensing with her pretense and speaking directly to the underlying offer. This was one desperate grab to try and reclaim some of the power in this interaction, in the face of ultimate surrender. "I assume you'd send me the bill for its repair."

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