Poor Xanthippe's brain. It was just in a constant state of adfhshjaggahj right now. She had to swallow.

And then she had to wet her lips, and then she could actually talk. "Yeah," she said. "You may."

It was a pretty loose party top, paired with the skinniest of jeans. Underneath, he'd find a very fortunately flattering bra. Black, because it was always the safest choice. With a tasteful lace trim because... maybe she'd hoped something would happen tonight?

And had still somehow thought he'd look at her bra more than her actual breasts.