[In truth, she's less trying to make him spontaneously combust and more testing the waters of what it is that he's going to tolerate from a near-stranger. Touch isn't unpleasant, after all, and he's been nice enough to her. Call She it ... curiosity. She leaves her hand where it is for the moment, neither moving it further up nor away from him.

Then he's offering to let her confide in him, and she can't help but be flattered - because she isn't used to this kind of openness at home, and having it here is a refreshing change. The atmosphere of the party doesn't hurt, either.]

I'd like that - if we were friends.

[She's smiling again, a little more genuinely, and then she adds, for good measure,]

So long as it isn't going to make the people from your home think you've been seduced by the dark side, or whatever it's called where you're from...and that you know it goes both ways. You want to talk out what you should think about your people from home -- trust me, I'm an expert at mulling over and analyzing the actions of people who say they're your friends and then act like the complete opposite.