He doesn't need to know that this is a go-to move for her. In part because she knows the effect it has-- how flattering a man's shirt is on her slight frame, hanging at the length of a good story (long enough to cover what's necessary, short enough to be interesting.) But she'd have done it anyway even if he wasn't here to see; it's the closest echo to skin on skin, a tangible way to wrap herself up in him.

But she likes the appreciative way his breath hitches all the same. She can't help but smile, small and pleased and warm.

"I do," she says eagerly, reaching for the mug and not waiting to take a sip. It's an excellent additional benefit to having an overnight guest. She'll kiss him once she's slightly more caffeinated. It's the weekend, they can linger.

She notices the cards, tilting a little to get a better view of the card. A little hmph of consideration, and she looks back to him. God, he looks good. She may never give the shirt back.

"Work or pleasure?" she asks, nodding at the cards on the table, heading for the couch with a little tug on his wrist. Though she won't fault him if he needs replacement coffee first.