In lieu of an answer, not wanting to lie or give herself away— elevator sex isn't something that she's ever done, not until now— Faye offers Dean a smile, one that she hopes will put any questions to rest. Her body feels weak, impossibly so, every step skittish even without the burden of her heels, but still she carries herself with as much ease as she can muster, tugging her briefs up and shivering at the cool touch of damp cloth. She leans in to press another kiss, the last she has planned for now, under the line of his jaw, shockingly affectionate by her standards, lips lingering against his skin.

Save for the look on his face, Dean looks like the past half an hour haven't affected him at all, and she wrinkles her nose with momentary jealousy, imagining that she can't have escaped half as unscathed. "I wouldn't call it my venue of choice, but," she shrugs, glancing up again while she tugs her shorts up, slipping the button back into place, and works on getting her hair into any semblance of order before she even tries fighting with her shirt and the boots tossed around on the floor.