"That sounds like Bodhi," he starts. "It feels like tattling to tell you he informed us all of the plan around your actual birthday."

The mention of hot chocolate has him smiling softly, if she manages to catch a glimpse of it before he swings around to her back. But then he is confronted with the pale sweep of her back, her dress half open; his eyes trace down her spine before he can help it before snapping back up to the top where she's managed one whole button on her own.

"Maybe the restaurant will have some. Or," he hesitates, reaching up to close up the first button towards the middle of her back, not sure if closing up her dress or asking his question is more nerve-wracking, "We could just go find some ourselves, if you need a break tonight."