She ends up laughing against his lips at that half-topple, and is tempted for a moment to push him down on the floor and sit in his lap again, but what if the books will mind? Better not traumatised his poor books, before they've had a chance to sit on bookshelves.

Then the first kiss becomes a second, and he's close and he looks soft and content, and she's got a flutter in her belly that's not from nerves.

"They serve breakfast until pretty late," she murmurs back, nudging her nose to his nose, and letting that suggestion hang between them. They don't have to rush to breakfast, if they'd rather do something else first. (Each other.) "So...yeah..."