He glances down to see the champagne in her hand and nods because, totally fair, that's the good stuff. Spared no expense. Okay, spared a little expense, but it had clearly all been totally worth it. He's fairly pleased with himself, too, for having the foresight to do what he'd done to his bedroom. He'd briefly toyed with the idea of littering rosebeds over Kate's bedsheets, but he'd walked into her apartment only to walk right back out when he'd remembered Carla Jean would be there to see him do it and having to look her in the eye after a thing like that is something he never, ever wants to do.

"My bed works for me," he says through a kiss, finding it far more difficult than usual to pull himself away far enough to actually make clear conversation. He sidesteps, moving her along with him toward the door. The travel time to the elevator doesn't take very long, and he's got her pinned against the wall, one of her legs hooked around his waist and nibbles at her earlobe as he paws at the buttons until he hits the one for the fourth floor. When the bell dings and the doors open, he's just barely aware enough of their surroundings to be relieved that nobody's lingering in the hall to see them. There's no time for more words, not between the kisses and the quiet sighs and the soft gasps, not until they reach the door to his place and he's managed to open the door and they're in front of his room.

"Okay, this might be a little much," he tells her, blocking her view of the inside,"but it was like, in all the romance tips I found online, not that I was looking on line because clearly I'm the Doctor of Love just on my own." He steps aside, moving behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist as he waits for her reaction. The lights are dim and hey, it doesn't look half bad. "I want everything to be special for you. Everything."