Yes, you're finished with the professional discussion

You set the last of the dishes down with a satisfied clink and straighten your vest, letting out a long, exaggeratedly tired sigh. You catch her gaze—the one she is trying so hard to keep professional—and then slowly, deliberately, you turn your head to look toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. You let your eyes linger on the door for a few heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to become heavy, before turning back to her with a look of perfect, innocent neutrality.

"Actually," you say, your voice smooth and entirely devoid of the heat she is clearly expecting, "I think that’s quite enough for one night. I wouldn't want to overtax your analytical mind. Rest is, after all, a vital component of a shinobi’s recovery cycle."

Kurenai stands frozen, her hand still resting on the edge of the table. She looks from you to the bedroom door and back again, her lips parting slightly in sheer confusion. The "broken" woman from earlier, the one who just admitted to counting the minutes until your return, is now staring at a man who seems perfectly content to just walk away.

"I’ll head out now," you continue, heading toward the front door. "I have some reports to finalize for the Hokage anyway. Why don't we reconvene... tomorrow evening? We can discuss the chakra-dampening fuses in more detail then. It’s a dense subject."

Kurenai follows you to the entryway, her composure finally beginning to crack into a look of genuine indignation. "Tomorrow evening?" she repeats, her voice hitching. "You're... you're just leaving?"

You pause with your hand on the doorframe, looking back over your shoulder with a bright, teasing smile. "Of course. Discipline, remember? You’re the epitome of it, and I’m a very busy shinobi. Sleep well, Kurenai. I'll see you tomorrow."

You step out into the cool night air, leaving her standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the warm light of her home. As you walk away, you can practically feel her crimson eyes burning a hole in your back, her mind reeling from the realization that you are now playing with her sanity just as effectively as you played with her body.