Oh dear. Poor Antony. Lalla tilted her as as she watched him, sighing. Eventually, she decided hands be damned; she stood up, setting down the paintbrush she'd been holding, and went over to Antony, taking him by the upper arms and turning him to face her. "Antony, if I may call you that, listen to me. I have been declared mad by all and sundry, and let me assure you, in many ways, it's true. Perhaps not for the reasons they believe, but it's true nonetheless."
Her hands slid down from his upper arms to his wrists, and she brought his hands up, placing them firmly on her chest. There. Awkwardness slain. "There you go. You've officially palmed my breasts, and I was the one who made you. No longer can you be afraid of taking advantage of me, because I'm taking advantage of you!" With a roll of her eyes and a smile, she leant in, giving him a firm kiss before going back to the desk and sitting herself back down, rearranging herself back into her pose. Madness. Mad Lalla.