"I think we missed our sunset chance. Might have to wait until tomorrow," she replies teasingly. She'll wait until he's ready, for however long it takes. After all, the plan involved him too; Jill would never leave without him.

She can feel his hesitance, the way he steps towards her as if she is a fragile ceramic doll he's afraid to break. Any protest about how delicate she's not is held back once his hand finds a place on her chin, her own hand coming to gently grasp his wrist. Gazing into those blue eyes of his, she's temporarily lost in them before he's holding her and it's more than appreciated by Jill's measure, this embrace that feels long overdue.

Jill doesn't know what he wants to say, but she's fully aware of what her own words will be next, said in a hushed tone for his ears only:

"Welcome home."