Helen had expected a reaction like this one. While he examines their room, she makes her way to the bed, setting a few items on one of the nightstands so she has what she needs within reach while she's sleeping. Or, as is always the case with her, a carefully wrapped gun placed under her pillow. The joys of flying a private charter: never having to worry about airport security and any equivalent of TSA.

Fluffing the pillow to cover the gun better, she turns to him with her eyebrows raised. As though nothing is out of the ordinary here.

"Or heaven forbid we might have to share," she says, leaning in conspiratorially. "I hear these beds are quite comfortable."

It isn't a direct invitation, exactly, but it is something along the lines of their little dance. An invitation of sorts for him to try the bed. Almost a challenge or a request to share with her tonight. It's like inviting a mystery into her space and she rather likes the idea of not knowing exactly what will come of it.