Kissing him had felt nice, and the obvious want in his and his demeanor went a long way towards satisfying her.
"I know you want me," she said quietly. "And I'm grateful for that. It's enough that you've proved to me that I'm still attractive. I won't fuck things up for you with your witch, I promise."
His kiss to her forehead had been almost tender, and she had a strange urge to cry, but she pushed that feeling down, kissing his cheek in a display of intended friendship and solidarity. They were going to be okay.
"I can't believe you're even asking," she scoffed, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Bring on the dessert, slave! And I'm not talking about Migs."