Beckett gazes up at him for a few heartbeats of time, her own breathing coming in slow, harsh pants, her chest rising and falling while she tries to catch it again - it's almost as if she's just finished taking down her sparring partner to the mat.

She blinks again, breaking the eye contact, and glances away, suddenly feeling very overheated.

"Yeah, sure, of course," she murmurs, setting the bottle down - slower, this time, before she moves to stop the song. A click, and silence picks up where harmonicas and suggestive lyrics started, and she lowers her hand to her side, fingers curling against the gray cotton at her hip.