Tauriel wavered in thought, uncertain to just where this conversation would turn: Physical interests were flaring.

Deeply inhaling, Tauriels gaze roved upwards to the tall Elvenking, “Yes, of course.” She agreed in an exhale, her nerves flaring as she moved to the wine rack, pouring him a new cup.
The entire time her thoughts flared due to her own intoxication, reminding herself again and again; she was a captain, not a friend. She was buisness not a friend. He was her Lord and not a friend — she began to grow flustered and foolishly dropped the glass, silting her index on a shard as she moved to grab the shattered object. Instantly putting the cut finger into her own mouth to stop the pain — She was intoxicated, nothing had valid reason anymore.