Lisbeth is too busy staring at her own drink to really notice the near averting of disaster. "It's new," she says, trying for a delicacy in her tone and words, but really sounding even further clipped and unsure. "I've only ever done things casually. Not like this." She takes another fortifying sip.

It's occurred to her that perhaps she's clinging to the first person here to show her kindness, and she might have believed it if she knew it wasn't kindness that she'd felt in his touch that night.

Fuck.

She presses her lips together. "I have feelings. About him. And in general." This seems to be troubling Lisbeth deeply.