"To keep you around," he amended, graciously with a glance upward, as if beseeching the heavens for the mistake. "I've learned quite a few things from my cat, you never really own one, they own you. And your clothes, bed, couch, laptop, everything they want, it's theirs." He gave a graceful shrug causing his shirt to part more at the neck as it moved to compensate for the gesture. "You're so much like a feline. Insanely inquisitive, ready to pounce on anything that interests you, direct, and picky about your food." His shoulders shook faintly with the laugh, a hand moving to cover his face when she started to talk about rainy days, the benefits of a dress, modern pants.
"I wouldn't, Miss Roxy, it wouldn't be becoming at all," a glance given to the table, "with all your intent making itself apparent, I'm surprised you're letting the table get in your way of," tipping his head, obviously coy now, "pushing me down on my back." Paraphrasing her earlier declaration.