She hadn't been aware that there could be more cheerful topics; didn't they both have work to think about due to Helicarrier failure? And if she actually thought that, she'd have stayed on the Helicarrier: she was here, and some part of her craved something other than thinking about what had happened.
"Except by me barging in," she - or the whiskey in her - pointed out, more amused than contrite. She lifted her eyebrows as she picked up her glass and took a slower sip. "Someone not Morse, Potts, or myself?" she asked. She really hoped it wasn't Potts again. She couldn't look at the pillows.