[ She doesn't answer him, but merely raises her brows. If he catches her look, she imagines he'll understand. And if he doesn't, well... he's an imagination to use to fill in the blanks. ]

Bourbon neat is fine.

[ More than fine, really. If she managed to stay awake long enough to drink it all, well, then.

Her laughter echoes in the bathroom, loud and ringing. She can't muster the energy to grimace when she's idly picking at the wax paper to their bar of soap. ]

Maybe you should order the tequila. [ Hip propped against the doorframe, she has the perfect view of him and that mischievous glint to his eyes. ] If we're to be imaginative with the soap.

[ After a moment's hesitation, said soap thumps against her mattress. She's slowly padding across the room, much like a lioness stalking prey, until she reaches him. And then she's slowly, slowly loosening his tie. ]

And if you'll allow me my pictures.