The crowd had petered away as the night waned. Magnolia had not noticed. She hadn't wanted another drink since she had slowly finished her glass of wine—she wanted to absorb his eyes and his voice with perfect clarity. They had been talking animatedly, sharing jokes and quips and banter that made them quake with laughter until it diminished into giggles and wiped corners of eyes. Now, with the room quieting around them, she closed her eyes, resting her elbow on the bar. God, she was tired. How had she not noticed until now? It had to be close to sunrise. Wow. Wowsie wowsie wow. Yeahhhh, she was officially wiped out.

Benedict must have noticed. He puts his hand gently over hers and says quietly, "Hey." Goddddd that voice. In her fatigue-addled brain, Maggie inwardly groans at the sound. As he's talked through the night it's gotten a little deeper, a little rougher. It makes her insides quake with the desire to curl around the sound as if she were a cat, feel it vibrate and warm her.

"Magnolia".

"Wha—". At his mention of her name she realizes that she didn't open her eyes the first time, and jerks back to consciousness (mostly).

"Yes?" Her voice comes out small and querulous. She clears her throat and tries again.

"I am awake. I am most definitely….awake".

Even as the words leave her lips her voice trails off and he chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear that sound.

"Let's get you a cab home, shall we?" He says it almost to himself, but she can feel him shift. She knows he's donning his jacket, which he had shed to a nearby barstool, and smiles to herself, eyes still closed. She'd memorized what he looked like in that jacket to the point that she can picture it in her mind, the perfect planes of his body and the suit coming together in gorgeous folds of fabric.

Maggie pulls it together enough to open her eyes most of the way and haul herself out of her chair, in what was probably a decidedly undignified manner. Ah, well. There was only so much a girl could do at 4 in the morning.

He offers her his arm, the lovely man. Next to him, she feels like they practically glide past the bartender, who grins at them like a particularly smug Cheshire cat. She mentally takes note of the fact that she doesn't recall Ben having had anything else to drink after they'd started talking. She files it into the 'things that are important to consider before doing something stupid' cabinet in her brain. There are a few taxis still left outside as they step into the chill damp of new morning. She doesn't even ask, but pulls him in after her and gives her address. 'Bold of me', she notes. Honestly though—she has idea where she's going with this. He looks surprised, which is nice, but not disgruntled, which is also good. Taking the opportunity afforded to her by their proximity in the cab (but mostly just sleepy), She rests her head against his shoulder. He tucks his arm around her almost automatically, as if it were the most natural thing. He smells like…like his voice sounds. Like fine fabric laced with musk and a little but of cigarette smoke and some unknowable spice. She takes a deep inhale, all the way to the bottom of her lungs, before she lightly exhales the words "you should have won".

His voice sounds surprised: "Pardon?", as if he might have misheard her.

She lifts her head says clearly, "You should have won tonight. I really think you're brilliant, Benedict."

His eyes widen slightly and a smile tentatively curls up around his lips as he ducks his head.

"Thank you, Magnolia. I appreciate that".

She loves that he calls her by her full name. Not shortened, as if the longer version is too much of an inconvenience or an embarrassment. He says it as if he is rolling it around inside of him before it makes its way out of his mouth, making sure it will sound just right before he speaks it aloud. On his tongue, it's not awkward or silly, but the name of someone important. Someone who matters.

Yes, she likes him. Dangerously so. Hmmmm. Something will have to be done about this.

Her head back on his shoulder, she gives into her exhaustion and closes her eyes. A million thoughts are racing through Benedict's head, a million horses making his chest pound. He wondered if she could hear it.

She could.

Before he can gather his thoughts to form a coherent sentence like- "Will you have dinner with me?" or "I would like to see you again" or "You are the most beautiful, lovely woman I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on and I think I might be slightly in love with you"…wait. Scratch that one, no please god Benedict don't say that last one out loud—the cabbie turns to tell them they've arrived. She lifts her head, moving like a…well, a very adorable sleepy something. She turns to him and smiles lazily, her face and eyes soft with the first signs of sleep. He can't help wondering if this is what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning. 'please keep it together, Benedict, and for the love of god, don't blabber'.

"Thank you, Ben. You're lovely". She says this as if it's a revelation. Like a child, her statement sounds like she's just expressed the most important, self-evident fact in the world. It's a statement that refuses to be denied; "You. Are. Lovely." It makes him feel a bit like he's made of champagne bubbles.

'That's odd', a voice in the back of his mind notes.

He realizes he hasn't said anything. He's just been sitting there, fizzing away.

In the same manner in which she had complimented him, she says, "I'm getting out now. Goodnight." The brightness of her smile returns, glinting like the sun peeking in through the car window. She leans in closer and all but breathes into his cheek "See you around" before she places a gentle kiss on his cheek. She chuckles to herself as all he manages to gurgle out is "Y-y-yes. Yes". Her soft laughter is all she leaves behind as she swishes out the cab in her impossible dress, handing the cabbie enough cash to cover the fair to her house and his journey as well. He feels panic welling up inside of him as the door closes and the cab starts to pull away. 'Oh god I don't even have her number or her last name!'. He scrambles to look out the back window to catch any clues as to where to find her again—he spots the number on her apartment building and he sees her standing there. She's just standing, swaying slightly on her doorstep as if singing to herself, watching him leave. He thinks he catches her smile.

He spends the rest of the ride to his residence in a daze, no concrete thoughts passing through his mind but absentmindedly wondering what she smells like, what food she likes, what books she reads. Oh god, this was bad. When he arrives, he automatically reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet for the cab fare before he remembers that she paid—but his fingers find a foreign object. Pulling it out, it reveals itself to be one of those mini parasols the bartender had been sticking in tropical drinks all night—she must have snuck it into his jacket when he had taken it off. He flooped it open to find that she had written '0492 557 7583 ~Magnolia'. She was sneaky. He smiled idiotically to himself until the cabbie asked "Yah a'ight, sir? This is where you live, yeah?" 'Yeah, yeah it is, sorry, so sorry".

He skipped his way to his front door, letting himself in.

'Now…when do I call. Now? Or later today? Or in a few days? God I've always been crap at his'. But he was unbearably…fizzy. And it took him until long after the sun was up for him to finally bubble down enough to sleep.