He chuckled, squeezing her arm warmly. She was not a friend, but she could be trusted, oddly, more than most who were friends.
"You do that, very well, Emma. You always have."
Indeed, she always affected him that way, and a cursory glance that way would show, in this revealing outfit, that she still affected him so. His fingers, as he walked with her toward a table, stroked her arm lightly.
"Here is our table, a refuge before and after dancing."