She has reached something of a truce with his hair. It remains as messy at it likes and most of the time, she leaves it be. And in return she uses its messy state as an excuse to lazily draw her fingers through it in what is, she claims, an attempt to get it to behave. It's not enough to tug and certainly not enough to make much of a difference to the mess, but it's as good an excuse as any to touch him.

Not that she needs to find excuses and openings so much any more, now that the armour isn't quite so permanent. But old habits die hard. So as she approaches him (from the side, since she can't sneak up behind him when he has his back against the wall) she slowly pulls her fingers through his hair, fingertips brushing over his scalp and the back of his neck.

"It's really been a year since all of that, hasn't it?" She sounds a little surprised by it still, the year's been busy but it's flown by.