Daisy's lips quirk into a crooked smile, "Mm, yeah—would be nice to have somewhere to sleep tonight. Should— should be careful of anything too breakable, f-first. Really."

Her eyes slide not closed, but half-lidded. The claws on the hand still wrapped around Erin's wrist dig against the protected flesh beneath them—not hard, not even all that deliberately. The firm muscles of her abdomen flutter under the touch of the fingers brushing against skin, and she breathes. Trust, and relief, and love that she's still not really put in words.

Murmured, "Wish these trousers were a fucking skirt..."