The conversation had taken a turn towards the Serious and Important, which Alfred hadn't anticipated when he'd invited her over. He'd thought a lot about that night, of course, but he hadn't anticipated that he would want to talk to her about it — obviously. If he'd planned this, he'd hoped he would have been at least a little more eloquent. Having her here, though, and not knowing how she felt about the entire thing (about that night, about their relationship following it, about their relationship now) had proven to be too much uncertainty for him.

"You should go somewhere other than England," he said, to lighten the mood slightly. "Preferably not via shipwreck, though."

Returning to the subject matter at hand, he continued softly, "The way that night ended... sort of made it feel like a mistake. And maybe it was," he admitted. "But things might have been different if..." He drifted off, not sure exactly how to continue. He knew what he was trying to articulate — the difference, at least in his mind, between a drunken escapade and an act of affection — but he wasn't sure how to articulate it. He had a sort of romanticized idea of how the evening should have ended based on his far-distant sexual encounters in the past, but he was hardly going to bring up any of that to another woman (particularly not one he liked).

After struggling to try and find appropriate words for a few seconds, Alfred had a different idea. "Can we maybe — just for a few minutes — pretend you didn't have to leave right away?" he asked. He closed the space between them and tentatively reached to place his hands on her hips. Even given what she'd just said, the action made butterflies erupt in his stomach. It was so taboo that he couldn't help but think she would jump back in surprise, or slap his hands away.