He wanted her to ask. She knew he was desperate for her to ask, using her curiosity to lure her into some kind of conversational trap which would probably result in her agreeing to some kind of insane plan.
Braxiatel looked at her, eyes innocent and wide. "Is something amiss, Bernice?"
She was silent for a moment. Then she spoke brightly. "Amiss? Brax, old pal, I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
He blinked. "Really? Because you did look rather cross --"
"Oh, you know, it's been a long day," Benny said with a wave of her hand. "Talking of, I'd kill for a margharita..."
Two and a half hours passed of Brax trying to hint at Benny mentioning his clothes, and her obstinately refusing to respond as desired. Finally, she excused herself from the bar, wished Brax a good night's sleep, and stumbled off to bed.
The bar was silent. Brax sighed. "Alright. You win."
Another Brax stepped out from a back room, looking incredibly smug. "I told you she wouldn't ask," he said triumphantly. "Pay up."