[His hands on her shoulders feel like a firebrand. They're warm despite the jacket she's managed to find, sending that spiraling heat up through her stomach, zinging down her limbs, and she can't help but lick at her lips, swallowing hard under his attention, even though it hasn't even been enough to count as attention yet.

She's not a total idiot, or totally gone from her foray into candy of dubious origin, so she does take a second to clock him in: she spots the dark stripe down his throat that matches hers, the dark curls, those eyes, that jaw. Okay, she's not usually one to objectify someone but Mr. let-me-catch-you-from-falling-Poe is a tall drink of water on a hot day.

Is that a thing people even say? She doesn't know, she sort of reverted to a romance novel here given the situation. It's her first time being drugged on aphrodisiacs in a hell scape of a dystopian magic city, so she figures maybe she gets a pass. Just one. At least.]

Kate is fine. [The sales pitch can probably take a rest, he's not exactly running. She, on the other hand, is working very, very hard to keep herself a respectable half-foot away from him. Not pressing her body against his. Keeping personal space (sort of). And she's, ah, managing--except for the fact that she sways a little toward him, completely against her will. Damn, he even smells good]

And I'm glad you're not busy, because this is going to sound really weird. And I know you probably won't believe me, because, why would you since I've accosted you in the literal street, but I don't usually do this--but since I am doing this, right now, here, with you, I'm pretty sure we should kiss.