His fingers trail over her palm and she immediately feels a sense of relief. Like an arrow set back on course. Nevermind that he's still wearing the gloves—she knows better than to expect them to pick up exactly where they left off. No longer is she disappointed by this, having had a couple of years to adjust to their quirks, to give each other space to shake off ghosts that cling like gossamer strands.

"It's good to be back." That doesn't quite encapsulate everything she feels coming to Ketterdam, to this particular room and this specific person, but it's a start. Just like the touch, the words start off subtle despite the underlying vulnerability.

Sliding off of the sill, she stands in front of him, chin tilted up so she doesn't break their contact. "Come greet me properly, Dirtyhands."