She can't help shaking her head at his agreement, though now more fondly exasperated than annoyed. But she's still so high-strung that she sobers immediately when she considers just how good a thing their meeting here may or may not be, given the dangers involved. "I very much hope so," she says uncertainly, afraid for his safety but wanting to have faith that he will finally save her.

A little belatedly, she picks up on his relief and his odd hesitation, realizes he's still just as unsure and almost anxious in the face of their unnatural unfamiliarity as she is. It's so troubling and frustrating, she wants to buck and shake it off, or push through it somehow. She looks up into his new old eyes, studies him, trying to suss out what he needs, and finds that that had been more of a question than he had made it sound. He actually isn't sure if she is glad for their meeting, and she can't even blame him, with how distressed and reserved she's being. It's not right, and she wants to do at least this for him, so she brushes gentle gratitude against his mind despite their distance. As an afterthought, she takes one of his hands to squeeze and adds, "Thank you," with a small, hopefully encouraging smile.