Zoro makes a point to watch her as he kneels, and Nami makes a point of breaking off that eye contact in favor of rolling her eyes at him again. It's far easier than paying attention to the lingering taste of his skin in her mouth, or the warmth creeping its way up her spine and over the back of her neck, threatening to spill across her freckled cheeks in a dusty shade of pink. She can fight it off, lean into all those years of practice she got maintaining her poker face – and if that fails her, there's always getting annoyed and bristling to fall back on.

None of those defense mechanisms flare to life, however. While her expression stays level, the very slight way her eyes widen as Zoro settles between her thighs betrays her, as does the added breathless tone in her voice as he enlightens her on the logic behind inviting her to sit.

"I'm gonna fall over?" She shoots for dubiousness again, and falls short, the dry note in her voice undermined by the small grin curving over her lips the longer she looks at him. With a quiet huff, she snaps herself out of it and shakes her head at the offer of help.

"If that's the case, you're going to need to give me a good reason to start taking my clothes off." Which, as thrown gauntlets go, an unmistakable challenge, one she underlines a heartbeat later, all too easily spurred on by the warm weight of his hands on her thighs, and how the casino always makes it too damn easy to blur all the lines she would have maintained back home.

"Unless you're all talk." Lazily reaching for the dice she's meant to roll once he's finished, Nami's eyebrows tick upward, mirroring his.