Skip watches his gesture and raises a brow slightly, but it's not disapproval. If anything, it's a look of marking him up in her estimation. That he doesn't presume to touch what's hers. Not that she'd miss a beat if something did go into it. And she knew what to look for.

She flashes a smile as she lifts her glass. It doesn't take her very long to finish the drink. She doesn't down it like a shot, but it does only take her three mouthfuls, all of which blur into almost one motion. Years of being raised Irish taught her how to drink, especially when she has something else she wants to do.

When she puts the glass down, she reaches for his hand fearlessly. But she doesn't take it. No. She just trails her fingers down the back of it as she walks away, toward the dance floor.