It's too brief for Abby, but she isn't sure how to ask for more. She's never been shy and still isn't, but there is a hesitance that goes hand in hand with this comradery when the wounds from losing her friends back home haven't healed. She's never felt so aware of a relationship before, or been this beholden to not fucking something up; like stepping out onto an icy lake, and hoping it has frozen all the way through.

He's trying too. Loki is right out on the lake with her.

Abby clears her throat, stepping briefly ahead of him to bellow for the dog. He comes running, tearing across the grass to get back, and leaps up the moment he reaches her, painting her pants with his muddy paws. "Wags– no, bad–"

Might want to step back for a moment while she gets him settled.