A response comes, and then it goes. And another, and it does, too. Neither of them is entirely something anyone would call appropriate, one slightly petty and the other sharply pointed, and she doesn't want either, and he doesn't deserve either, and even if he does, they do, she doesn't want it.

Does want to choose that, and so she doesn't. Waits for.

"He seemed--" The pause that happens between her second and third word, the way it makes her eyes drift down, it's not hesitation. Nothing like avoidance. It's something far more. It smoothes the line of her lips and it does things she wasn't even could be done anymore to the space inside her heart: both what it is, and that she's giving it to Mick. "--happy when he came in."

Intense. Manic. Demanding. "More him. Even like this."

Even just sitting. More at ease. Whatever else. She didn't begrudge those.