[She has to look up at him, now, when she never had to before, and she does so now without any hint of shyness. This is the closest they ever get without exchanging an awkward, brother-and-sisterly hug, and it's very different. Good different, but different. She's good at hiding her emotions as ever, face a serene mask, but there are some small indications that she's aroused by all this—her pupils are blown and her pale cheeks are somewhat flushed, even if she doesn't otherwise appear embarrassed or awkward.

She notices the change in his voice, oh yes, she notices, and for once she's divided on whether or not to tease him about it. She could totally destroy him right now, rip him to shreds and leave him a cowering, sexually frustrated mess, but the thing is, she's sexually frustrated too, and the tension between the two of them could slice a fucking diamond.

She smiles, the barest curve of her lips.] Pardon my lack of specificity. To put it into rather frank terms, I'm pretty sure you've been checking me out, Dave. And it's likely that stems from some subconscious prompting—dreams, maybe.

[She grins, and it's sharp.] Correct me if I'm wrong. But the thing is, I have to admit I've been doing the same. And given the fact that you and I mostly only hang out with each other, it follows that we're liable to want to take out our sexual frustrations on each other.

[Rose steps nearer to Dave, leaning her face up into his, before pulling away and brushing past him to cross and rest her fingertips on the little kitchen table, looking back over her shoulder at him.]

Is that specific enough for you?