Her fingers in his hair produce the expected result: Benedict's eyelids drift down for a moment, a small pleased smile curling his lips, and he leans into the touch. Just like a Cat, it seems.

Shifting a little closer, he bends his head and kisses the edge of her rib cage, smiling against her skin and resisting the urge to pull her hand closer again so he can lick her fingers. She would probably find that strange, and he's been strange enough for one night.

"It seems there is much you have to teach me," he teases.