[Iris shook her head. And stared some more. And then she realized just how long they'd been staring at each other, and dropped her gaze to the floor, to the worn toes of her borrowed shoed on the expensive flooring. She hadn't been assuming anything, not really. Not in that way. Her fingers twisted together in front of her body, tight and causing the skin there to go bloodlessly white.]
I know. You have the Manor. [Of course she knew that. Hadn't she and Alfred been connected so long ago? Even without the sort of research she'd done in Las Vegas, she knew where he lived.] But it would make sense. To have a place in the city. [Her voice trailed off, got softer until there was barely nothing by the end of her sentence. It took her a moment and a hard, painful swallow to find her voice again.] If you want to stay, I won't... [Refuse. Fight it. Argue. Insist. He could stay in the penthouse, anywhere in the penthouse, and she would never say (or do) a thing to stop him. She had no right to refuse, not when he was being so generous.
But she didn't think he would want... anything. Not from her. Not like that. She looked down at herself, her borrowed clothing. No, definitely not, even if he was the type of man to want something in exchange for kindness. Not that she would want that either...