Hasibe was not planning on being so thoroughly mussed before going out to meet and greet, but this is...hardly an issue, she thinks--she works in a physically active role, and while maybe some of the other predators afoot will have some clue, would anyone really be surprised? She stretches, on the sofa, back arching, head tipped back, eyes closing. One hand slides through her long hair, finding it significantly more tangled than before, though that's easily repaired.

"You know," she says, accent even thicker than before--maybe it's the laziness, as she comes back to herself, "I should invite you back here more often."

Her eyes open, now, but with one hand over her brow, body skewed languid, only one is visible. She smiles a little, crooked, and drops said hand to her side. "Am I a mess?"

In so many ways.