She lets the moment linger, despite whether or not it's discreet.

(It's not.)

"All right," she sighs, finally pulling away from him. "I'm gonna dance off somma these nerves. Try not t'pick a fight with John? An' try not t'get too melancholy."

She squeezes his hand, and — quick as a flash — gives him a peck on the cheek.

"I mean t'abscond with you when the shindig's over."