He would be lying were he to tell her he hadn't imagined. A lie to say he had never looked at her and had his gaze linger for a fraction longer than might have been appropriate. A lie also to say that it wasn't something that happened right in that moment.

There was a pause for brevity as he continued his ministrations, tidying away the mail that had been delivered, discarded, sat on, and was now making its way down the edge of the sofa.

"Indeed. Quite the waste," he said, just the smallest of glances in her direction.