If one of them is cloistered, it's certainly Cameron; even now, with all the years and the distance she finds it hard not to feel disloyal, in some measure. It's ridiculous, and she knows it-- but it's hard not to shy away from anything serious. And-- in spite of what she has said, what she may yet say-- she doesn't really want something that isn't. She can't stomach the thought of admitting that, though. You can't lose something you don't have.

She couldn't hold it against him-- not really-- at home; it isn't as though she holds any claim on his time, his attention. Things here are different, and if she had any clue she'd be displeased to say the least-- but, pleasantly oblivious, she's beginning to consider the possibilities offered by the lack of consequences. To wonder whether the same sequence of events might unfold differently, given the different surroundings and circumstances. At worst, he won't remember to hate her for taking advantage of the time difference, in reality.

She can't even try to keep her composure in light of that mental image, a canid Chase fumbling with a shot glass. She breaks out in a grin.

"Thumbs are a necessity," she agrees laughingly. She still hasn't said yes, but she hasn't said no. Though truth be told she'd rather stay in for a drink, away from prying eyes.