John narrows his eyes suspiciously at her, glancing between the woman herself and the little glass, now abandoned on the table before her. The healthy flush is now spreading itself down the length of his neck, disappearing into the collar of his shirt, and up to redden his ears as well.

"I'm certainly not cold," he replies, which is to say warm is a bit of an understatement, and the sensation of heat that is starting to radiate from the very core of himself is honestly beginning to feel more than a little bit uncomfortable, though he doesn't necessarily want to hurt her pride by saying so.

Raising a hand, he warily presses it to his forehead, feeling the tell-tale sensation of sweat beginning to prickle across his skin.