She doesn't answer that admission; she's rarely known herself what she wants. She's always hoped he'd have enough intuition to follow the flighty, subtle changes of her needs. It's a moot point, now. And he still doesn't understand, of course.

The thin line of her lips curves down a little, just the faintest touch of a frown as she considers his offer. Or request; that might be a more apt way of putting it.

"Ask me in two weeks," she answers at length. It's more than she really wants to give him.