It was overthink-your-breathing quiet in this house, insulated from the city noise and completely still with only the pair of them on the couch in the straining light of a single floor-lamp that felt like the only light in the whole country for this minute. Tony realized he was still holding her clutch, pushed into his hands as they came in and she immediately had to respond to something on her phone, letting him guide her through to sit (and slide, her satin gown frictionless on the leather) then wait up against her side while she typed and he hummed. Tony wasn't entirely sure what happened next. Her shoes were still on, her hair was still perfect, she could leave right now and they could both completely forget about what just happened. “No one needs to know," Tony tried, because they had been very still for a very long time to him and he had to assume that was the worst part for her.