"It would do well for me to practice," he admits. "You are still so much faster than I am."

He steps closer to her, brings his hands to her left shoulder, allows his fingers to fall to the pin that holds the fabric in place. With their bodies this close together, it is not purely an accident that his chest brushes softly against her side as he works, or that his glances to meet her eyes is faintly loaded with other intentions.

"I would kiss you, if you'd have me do so," he whispers softly. "Should learn how to do this while distracted."