Still leaning on her hand, she reaches over with the other, her palm against his chest. Rubbing back and forth slowly, almost absently, she hums softly, considering her next clue. "I thought you were supposed to guess first," she teases, relaxing against her pillow, her arm still draped over him. It's still kind of surprising to her sometimes, just how comfortable she is next to him, and she stretches in the bed, her knee brushing his leg, though she's careful not to nudge against him too hard.

"Okay, then I spy someone with some ridiculously hot tattoos and eyes that kind of make me want to agree to anything who willingly sat through the Darrow equivalent of meeting the parents even when said pseudo-parental figure was maybe a little off putting at first," she says, then laughs softly even as she tries to stifle a yawn of her own. "Jesus, that's one hell of a clue."