"Are you-?" She cocks her head to the side. He's a hard man to read, at times. If he had any patience for gambling, he'd be a grand card player. "You want me to try...?"

It's absolutely fucking absurd, the flutter she gets in her chest at the thought of him taking an interest. It gives her enough energy to stand, to walk and rifle through his clothes drawer. She doesn't have the patience for the dark leather she finds, and searches for something made of cloth. It's dark cloth, invariably, but she's told dark colors make her hair stand out. Maybe he'll like that?

Well, he gave her permission to try. She pulls on a shirt, clearly meant to be tucked in tighter under other layers. Jone, having no patience for that, lets the thing crumple loosely about her. She can't keep from smiling when she looks him over, after pulling the tangle of her hair from the neck.