Up goes one slim eyebrow. "You're the one who drew that line, sailor. Not me. Believe me, you're getting off easy."

Shrugging, she leans back with her own drink, now nearing the end, a few drops left among crystal, crushed ice. "You're going to have to call someone else for that tonight."

His -- whatever Danny is. Partner. Friend. Thing. Not his boyfriend. Something that might still end at any moment. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you owe me."

That eyebrow arches further, and is joined by the other in a silent challenge. He doesn't really want to go through a reckoning of all the favors he's asked for right now, surely.