Tristan felt his face burning, the color slowly rising to his skin. He knew what she was trying to say, or thought she did, and ... it was funny how the self-confidence one derived from clothes worked so much better when other people didn't know that you hadn't pulled it off on your own. But she hadn't mentioned it outright, so he could at least pretend that he had not been featured in a fashion magazine.
"Thanks," he said, looking down at her for a beat with a slightly more sheepish smile before she headed for the kitchen. He followed, setting the bag on the counter, and drew out the bottle. "I could use one, I've spent most of my day tramping around with a pair of six year-olds ... almost as strenuous as policing the library stacks, I'm sure."