The breath she draws is long and slow. She curls the finger at her mouth and slips the knuckle between her teeth. Bites a little indent either side of the bone, a way of keeping the mouth too busy to leer or laugh, or maybe moan. This is it, this is what she's been digging after. The prize at the bottom of the box that turns out to be a diamond.

Her eyes rake over his face. The set of his mouth, the shape of his brow. But always back to the eyes, eyes so deep in this that he could - yes - drown in it.

She holds her tongue, her breath. Holds herself forward, not quite on tiptoe but rocked onto the balls of her feet, and waits.