"Impatient," she scolds, though she might inspire more contrition if the word weren't mostly breath. She then proceeds to make herself a hypocrite by sparing not a second in pushing his shirt off, somewhat daring him to mock her for it. She's unused to being so needy again, so soon -- but then, she's not used to this sort of wanting at all. A combination of pure selfishness and purely the opposite, which both amount to essentially the same thing; she wouldn't have thought it possible.

Lowering her hands, she grips the hem of her shirt, preparing to shuck it off if he'll pause for a second. Her leg nudges at his knee, the one outside hers, while he's waiting he can go on and fix that little problem.