"I never said that," he replies with a low chuckle. He's become almost desensitized to Alex in her work clothes, but he lets himself look and feels guilty because he has a girlfriend. Then he remembers that he doesn't and technically he's single again, and a lump rises up in his throat. He lets out a stuttering breath and shakes his head, dragging his fingers through his hair as he heads back over to the sofa. "Sit. I'll be right back."

He goes into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of vodka and some lemon lime sodas from the fridge, then grabs two glasses and stops by the laundry room to grab one of his shirts and a pair of boxers just in case she changes her mind. She's probably comfortable in that stuff by now, but plain cotton is probably a little cozier.

"Supplies," he declares upon his return, setting everything down on the coffee table and then dropping down next to her on the sofa. He puts the clothes, a white undershirt and black boxer briefs, on her lap. "Here. In case you wanna stay over."

She probably should. It's late and he's not going to send her out after drinking. She can have the couch and he'll crash on the floor.