Elijah's hand is hovering near his back pocket still, having now abandoned any pretense of... well, there never really was any pretense, was there. Dom reaches out and pulls Elijah into his flat by the collar. Elijah stops talking and grins.
Dom flicks on the light switch and throws his keys into his coat pocket, then throws the coat on a hook by the door, gesturing for Elijah to do the same. He rubs his hands together, suddenly crackling with too much energy.
"So! Were you serious about that coffee? Because my coffee isn't that great, I'm told. Weak. Who drinks coffee anyway." He's babbling, he knows it, but somehow 'Let's fuck!' doesn't sound quite right either.