"Mm, I got a medal, too. For Italy," he told her casually, barely realising that he was actually telling her something about Milan without being prompted and while he wasn't in the middle of a panic attack. "And Sir Hemingway has such a good ring to it as well. That's a damn shame," he joked, clearly feeling much brighter now. She's done it, and it hasn't involved the whiskey bottle after all. That was progress for both of them really; for him using his words and for her knowing how to handle him.
"Ha, too old," he groaned a little; if she was too old, he was a fossil. "Mm, yes, perfect," he practically purred as he gave her ass a little squeeze "God, you're so damn hot, you know that?" he told her, with much more casual words than usual. It was a gut reaction, not a thought out compliment.