This time when she stepped toward him, it wasn't quite as much of an effort to keep himself still and not back off. He eyed her hand, not quite sure what he was supposed to do with it - it wasn't the right position for her to be offering to shake, and that didn't really make sense, anyway.

Was this another one of the million and one things he'd forgotten? Some basic social nicety written in the pages of the rulebook everyone had read but him?

It seemed like an invitation. Maybe a request for confirmation. Slowly he reached out, watching her to make sure she didn't try to grab him, and rested his hand over hers palm down.

"I'll have your back." Not that he'd trust her to have his. He relied only on himself, always. But once given, he kept his promises, so he'd damn well have hers. Unless and until she stabbed him in his, of course.