"Ya know how you said you were no good at this? Ath, I ain't so hot myself. I've been a right wanker and you deserve more than that," he admitted, letting go of her hand and casting about for his shirt which was laying over the back of the couch.

Nabbing it, he tugged it on, raking his hands through his hair before he leaned against the couch back and folded his arms over his chest.

"I'll take care of Drake. And...when you get back, if you still think I'm worth the effort, I'd like to take you out on a proper date. Somewhere nice. Not a match or a pub. Someplace, ya know, dressy. Maybe try to see if we can actually work this like a normal relationship."

How he'd managed to push all the words out, he wasn't sure, but he had, though he was having a time looking at her. "And..by then, I should have the whole betting thing worked out. Maybe."