She lets him have his moment, watching his hand briefly before sliding her gaze away to focus on her new drink, turning to prop her weight on her elbows against the bar, glossy nails tapping on her cup.

The scent isn't shampoo at all, just a combination of what he finds most attractive as a smell, and her own strawberries and cream. Pheromones and skin.

"Then take me home," she smirks, raking her eyes over the wiry scoundrel with a snorted laugh. Candyfloss wasn't even as soft. If any comparison could be made, it was like the powdered strands of Dragon's Beard candy. Heavy, voluminous, yet somehow also light as air, like a whisper on the skin.