"You mean I don't look good every day," he teased, one hand rising to his heart in faux-pain. The fact that he was ignoring her first question for the moment in favor of teasing was because he hadn't really decided on what to do or how to answer her. He knew what he wanted to do in the way of melodramatic gesture, but he wasn't sure when to do it or how, precisely.
Then he realized something. This whole time, when he stopped to think about things, they just seemed crazy. But when he was riding purely on his gut? He was able to go along with what felt right. He knew it was a risk, but then again, so was this entire conversation. It was his gut that got him answering those questions to that guy - Ollie was pretty sure his name was Sam - honestly, rather than trying to hide behind his usual excuses and rationalities. It was his gut that told him to bring the dreams up with Faith in the first place.
Going on gut was what got him to this point in the first place. Might as well go with it.
So instead of answering her question, he placed the second sandwich on the table, stepped up to her, plucked hers away from her, and set it down next to his. Then, never breaking eye contact with her, he pulled his flask out, popped the cap, and upended it over her sink, letting all of the booze within pour out. Despite everything, he did not break eye contact with her even once while he did that, and he didn't shake at all.
Then, once all the alcohol had dribbled out, he abandoned the flask. Now was the part of this whole gut plan thing that was the riskiest. Yes, riskier than taking her sandwich or getting into her personal space. If he let himself think about it for even half a second, he wouldn't be able to do it. So instead of thinking about it, trusting that his instincts would tell him if he was wrong, he leaned down and kissed her, hard and passionate. This was something else he'd seen flashes of in his dreams, and he was hoping that if there really was something to these dreams, she wouldn't be able to deny it after this. There was no alcohol on his breath. Neither of them could chalk this up to just crazy drunken antics. It was the real deal, and it would either get him what he was hoping for, or possibly a murderous former-friend, a murderous former-friend's sister, and a sexual harassment lawsuit.