Gela does so, with the sinking feeling that she is locking herself in. Remembering that, technically, if anything does go wrong in this moment, she has locked him in here with her, doesn't help much. She feels shivery, no braver than before despite the break she took before walking herself up here.

"... No thank you," to the offer of a cigarette, as she slinks into the chair opposite his desk, curling into it, one leg tucked underneath of her body. She puts her hands delicately on the edges of it.

There is a lot of work on his desk. She cranes her head to look at it, curious, and then suddenly he takes it and sets it out of her line of sight. She retracts herself, embarrassed, glancing at her hands and nails.

One of the problems is that, "I don't know why you're doing this for me."