Sabrina lives to make him blush like that, whenever she can, and it's enough that she nearly turns and crawls into his lap, especially when she realizes just why he might be nervous about the party.

So then she does scoot until she's sideways on his lap, nose pressed against his cheek, whispering against the shell of his ear. "Just think of it as reclaiming the place. We can crush up some cookies, maybe, and I'll wear my finest black lace."