Watching the man blow out a political rant was a lot like watching a large balloon slowly deflate. All the air came rushing out, and by the end, he seemed deflated, but far more relaxed. Her eyebrows must have been permanently attached to her hairline for as high as they were raised, for a multitude of reasons.<br/><br/>"Well, then. I hope you feel better," she offered, unsure what to make of it all.<br/><br/>The strangeness of their relationship escalated at breakneck speeds, leaving a trail of awkwardness and uncertainty in its wake. Just an hour ago she regarded him as a strange, unreachable figure from whom she collected a paycheck and occasionally offered useful facts when she wasn't scheduling appearances, giving the occasional mock debate, fetching coffee, or any of the other large range of menial duties she attended to on a daily basis -- but now what?<br/><br/>She tipped her head slightly, thinking about his frank response to her wardrobe inquiry. "I think you're awfully presumptuous. For all you know, I could show up and find out that you're as utterly revolting as you come across on TV." It was bold, sure, but if she was out of his reach as he said and his own blatant sexual interest wasn't enough of a hint, then she could afford a bit of frankness. "I hope you decide to leave that persona in the office, otherwise it'll be a short night with no more golden opportunities for you to let me know that I'm welcome to your penis at my leisure." She smirked, but internally she was mortified out of habit, still unable to totally divorce him from her thoughts as a strictly professional boss.