Many men and women, eh? He's far less certain than her right now, it seems. But - he dares not take advantage of this lonely, drunk widow, as she calls herself. Surely doing so would be beyond low, beyond awful to do to someone he has already grown to cherish.

But - god, he can't help but long for her to lean a little closer, to settle down into his lap. Already his body betrays him, damn it all. He shifts slightly. Not letting go, but neither does he pull her in closer. Not yet. "I - daresay these other men and women would not do nearly so well as you." He permits himself one small gesture: to reach up to her cheek, resting his tiny, delicate fingers along the curve of her jaw.