Greengrass' delay in accepting his outstretched hand caused Dory's cheeks to flush once more. Clearly, there was an underlying tension to all their interactions thus far. The conversation about the dancer was the most obvious, of course, but even when they spoke back at the art exhibit there was something lurking beneath the surface. Something peculiar and intriguing and, well, arousing.

He nearly dropped his hand back to his side when Greengrass finally accepted it. "They might be salvaged with a charm or two," Dory suggested whilst making certain to not hold onto Greengrass' hand for a second longer than what could be considered proper. "At least its water and not some other substance. Alchohol in particular is always tricky to work with." He was rambling, and not in a good way. Dory shifted on his feet before turning back to the desk behind them. "Right. I should attend to that. Best of luck with your letters. My apologies for the ... push and all." And the firmness pressing into you, he thankfully left unsaid.