She trades him a beer for her wine glass, conscious of his proximity now in a way she hasn't been for a long while. 'Sure. Better bring the bottle, hmm?' He's still in his tuxedo, and she'd ask to take his jacket, but for once, she's honest with herself. Once she starts touching him, she's not sure she could bring herself to stop.

Just keep it together, Alex. It feels like all her emotions are just beneath the surface. It's not a pleasant sensation, this razor's edge. But he's here now. Her rock. Stupid, stubborn, pigheaded, misogynistic, brilliant bastard of a man. And he's here, all alone with her. She can do this. She exhales, and actually manages to saunter into the living room.