She moves as well, her steps almost echoing in the empty shop, until she comes to a stop beside him. "Ready to knock on my door, I meant," she answers, then adds to clarify: "Today."

Because she doesn't want to talk in poetry, about how well they suit each other and how easy it is to talk to him. The healer illusionist, and the witch with her herb garden. Well, no - to think of herself in just those terms doesn't even begin to cover it.

She lets out a little exhale, and reaches out to touch her hand to his arm, where he is using it to give her table a little jiggle. Watching him right back, as if she's trying to gauge his body language, she runs her hand up his arm, then brushes her fingertips down his cheek, nudging his head to turn with her fingers to his chin. Her dark eyes meet his directly, unflinchingly, after they dart for one second down to his very appealing mouth.

"Do you want the tour of upstairs, or to test how sturdy this table is?"