"I'll keep that in mind, when the time comes," he assures her with a tip of his head.

Okay. So now what?

There's a nervousness growing in his belly, and he isn't sure if it's meant to be good or bad. Maybe neither. Maybe both. All he knows is it increasingly uncomfortable. This would normally be the point where both of them would be down a layer of clothing, and they're not even touching. Yeah...Sweeney's not sure he likes this. But he's trying. Trying not to run. Trying not to do the Wrong Thing. Say the Wrong Thing.

Fuck, he sucks at this.

His gaze drops to where his closer knee presses against the couch.

"You wanna drink?"

Sweeney winces slightly at himself. Not great. Hopefully, not the worst. Only time will tell. And he's guessing it's going to do so in short order.