She smiles and slumps forward a little, resting her chin once again in her hand. Watching him struggle with her arm is both entertaining and... odd. It would definitely hurt if she had any sensation left in it. Should she tell him that's not the way to get it open? Nah, he'll figure it out.

Honestly she doesn't give a shit whether she wins or not. She realizes distantly that she's still smiling, and she feels... good, warm, something. He came here at the crack of dawn after a truly terrible invasion of his privacy to do something stupid and pointless because he promised her he would. He threatened an angry spacetime entity because it hurt her.

She realizes she's staring at him, and she adjusts her gaze elsewhere, refocusing on the bottle. She takes an awkward swig, trying not to move her shoulder too much.