She can pretend that maybe that isn't part of what helps. The last piece of pizza in her hands vanishes into it's last few bites, and her fingers are still hooked around a glass neck, but she has for all intents and purposes stop needing or using it. One of those two, whichever it was, when she simply add to it, faint twist of a smile, that is both a warning and nothing truly like sharp.

"And not if you wanted to be touching any other part of me."