[It's something made of nothing, and she definitely feels it but can't say it's amazing. She's still looking down, seeing the neck she can't touch, and so she pulls back. Her brows knit as she resumes tracing down his abdomen, her hand having stopped just then. She doesn't meet his eyes until the fingers of the glove dance around the edges of his belt buckle, and then only for a look before she lets the glove drop in his lap between his legs.] I think I'm going to make coffee. Want some?