Sasha would have only told him that he was being silly if he'd tried to explain his noble intentions. They were unnecessary. She was pleased, then, when he switched seats, though why he decided she needed a lot of personal space, she didn't know. Drunk Sasha needed no personal space. No, drunk Sasha removed those inches between them; in doing so, she spilled water on her hand, causing her to frown at the offending drink again.
Oh, she was supposed to be drinking that, wasn't she. She didn't especially want to, but she took a drink anyway, because she didn't want him to make good on his unspoken threat to kick her out or try to take her home. There, that should satisfy him. Pleased with herself for paying that small price, she held the glass close to her check--mostly as a comfort to herself, and because it was a natural movement--and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Yes," she responded, momentarily closing her eyes. "This shoulder is a very good shoulder." She said it because it was true. As were a lot of the things she'd said that night.