[Not like her toes would be any worse for wear from the roll over, but the effort is appreciated. The tough against her arm bubbles excitement and warmth into her chest, and she feels almost guilty about it. That's an emotion she shoves aside in favor of the positive ones that Ivar brings with his presence.

She shuts the door behind him and watches as Quentin eats up the attention, aggressively head butting his hand before eyeing his lap keenly. He clearly came seated just for him, right? Look out Ivar, he's going to try and claim his lap before he's even two rolls in the door.

Rogue chuckles, moving to muss his hair affectionately.] Bourbon, actually. But, that's a type of whiskey. [Motioning towards the living area, she grins nervously.] Make yourself at home, ah... Well ah got somethin' to show you? If you want.