Her touch resounds through his chest and blooms elsewhere. He's rather warm right now, but he wants to shiver.

"Something like that," he acknowledges. He can feel a pesky inclination ignite within his body: for company, yes, and contact, even more. This wouldn't be the first time, but it's the first time it's directed toward her. Part of him senses the danger in this, like treading through a swamp, each step courting quicksand that won't let go. But she really is quite striking in the soft crystal ambiance and the mood between them hovers in playful and intoxicating circles. His world and all of the qualms he has with it is narrowing. He feels good for once.

"If I were drunkenly predisposed to closing distance with you, would you protest?"