[ Stilted is the perfect word for all of this. Because she feels similar urges he does, intimate gestures that she has no right to anymore. It pisses her off. As she takes the bottle after him, she finds she wants to skip the glasses and share the bottle. She wants reach out and unbutton the next button on his shirt to encourage him show more of his chest. She wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner and...

His question draws her back and she finishes pouring herself another drink before she answers.] Yeah, that was a while ago.

[ She lifts her glass to take a sip but stops short of doing so, finally truly looking at him as she sets the glass back down.] This is... It's fucked, isn't it? What happened to us. I know we're dancing around it and while we could do that for another hour and walk away... I'm fucking tired. And all I want to know is if you remember what I'm remembering.