[When her lips barely shift from his to take a breath, it's by a mere inch at best for a hitching inhale. Her eyes open to meet his, pensive and relaxed. She's comfortable in his arms, his embrace, as he seems to be in hers.] You know...
[She takes a breath, because her mouth is dry. Flirtation is suddenly a muddy art, where blushed cheeks replace impish smiles and a usual grace.] I look good out of a lot of things too.