She squeezes his hand back and swings her feet a little in midair, enjoying being off these heels.

They look nice, but they're murder to stand in for hours at a time.

Her smile is a little wistful as she thinks about her parents, about long quiet evenings at the dinner table playing gin or rummy or Clue. They're fine, she knows. Sad. Worried. But nobody's going to hurt them looking for her. They're safe from that, at least.