[ There's a heavy thump of arousal in his pulse as she catches his wrist, the grip right on the edge between discomfort and pain - which is right where he wants it, anyway. She gives her suggestions, and, honestly, it was right where he wanted to go anyway, but there's a large part of him that just wants to grunt "Make me." at her.

He managed to resist that impulse, but he doesn't manage to resist the last shred of space between them, wrist still caught in her grip as he pressed a hard kiss to her lips, and then another, lower, against her bloodied throat. He didn't mind the taste, really. Which was a little worrying, but - sleep with Andy enough and it just gets nostalgic.

His free hand slips down between them, but instead of going for her pants, goes for her pocket, instead, deftly opening up the packet while it was still in her pocket and then sitting back to slide the cigarette between her lips. ]

Think I'll go with both. [ He says with a smirk, fishing out the lighter, too, and - still one handed - flicking it on to light the cigarette. ]

Though you're going to have to get out of some of these clothes, and that's going to ruin the covered in blood aesthetic, so are you totally sure you want that? [ He looks nearly as smug as he does after he blows up eight ships in a row. Because yeah, he's pretty sure she wants that. ]