He continued to drink from the mug, until its contents were gone; not particularly difficult, it was only a few ounces.  He loved the cool, slightly sweet, cold peppermint tea he often made. As she spoke, he flashed her a small grin.  She typically only meant one thing when she wanted to make a mess; and it had been a little while since they had done anything.<br/><br/>"I'm sure if you did that, you'd be halfway done, and then their'd be a knocking at the door." He shifted ever so slightly in the chair to look at the door; he could tell, besides their secretary, that their wasn't anyone out there yet. Along his left wrist, one might catch a glimpse of the strangely writhing rings that marked his flesh; the hooping rings were something that Aziza has likely seen plenty of times, up close, before.<br/><br/>"Maybe later on, after we close up, I can<em>clean up</em>your apartment a bit, though."  Their was a certain way in which he spoke, that Aziza would recognize that he was using a double entendre. If she were needing it, who was he to object? But, he'd rather they not do anything in the office. He could be a damned stickler about these things; the office was strictly for business stuff. Not that he'd say no if she was particularly forceful about it. In truth, he liked a certain amount of roughness and force from the mummy.