The falling of the boots barely registers - but barely - and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she realizes she'd half-expected the sound of spurs to accompany them.

She shrugs her shoulders back, the sleeves of the shirt sliding down in a whisper of fabric, slipping off and falling somewhere - likely to join those heavy boots on the floor. She bends low to him again, the fingers of one hand splayed over his chest (over his heartbeat).