Hand found nearly as soon as she makes the unspoken request, her hand clasps to as many fingers as she can fit in her small grasp. Arm sinking down to hang otherwise relaxed, she allows her head to drift down to rest her cheek against the new man’s shoulder, head turned to keep at least some view of her grandfather. The question from Skypa is met with a quiet murr of half-hearted agreement.

She feels downright exhausted and she can’t quite get her muddled brain to find the right words to express that. In lieu of words, the fact that she has already returned to a rag doll state in Russell’s grip might be a good indicator even as her grip is retained.