If that kiss had been a question, she gave her answer nearly immediately -- and any small hesitation had only been from the novelty of a kiss like this from him. She didn't come any closer to him, though she wanted to. Instead, she flattened her palm soft and gentle against the side of his cheek. A strange nervousness fluttered in the pit of her stomach, not at all unwanted, but... different. Different from anything else she'd felt before.
She didn't linger too long. His question had been more answer to her than anything else. When she pulled away from him, she caught his hand as she went. "This way," she said, her voice all thick and shaky.
There was a door in the living room that had always been closed the few times Errol visited. She went to it and opened the door. It was pitch black, but for the light coming through small windows very high overhead. This was the tower seen in the back of her cottage - her library, an addition of the City - and the scent of book glue, old leather, and older paper made it evident what this room really was. She knew her way around, even in the dark. She set his hand on her shoulder and covered it again with her own before nudging the door closed. The blackness grew, but her steps were sure.
"Stairs," she warned, as she reached the spiral staircase that led up to the windows. She climbed, slowly and carefully for his sake, but with determination. As they grew closer to the top, and as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the light of the moon made evident the nest of pillows and blankets she'd tossed down beside one of the long, slitted windows. It was clear she spent much time up here, given the various books propped on the windowsill and strewn around the nest.