[ she gave him one of those looks -- the kind a woman gives a man when what he says makes her feel catty. it's a defensive mechanism more than anything, and it shows in her voice when she responds, pointedly putting her hand on his forehead and pushing to stop him from peering around her. ]

He knows that. That -- y'know. I care about him.

[ she makes this huffing exhale of a noise, finally deciding it's safe enough to actually go inside the crumbling building. either that, or she doesn't care if any rubble should try and fall on her. ]

That's where all the goddamn "Don't be stupid, Crawley" comes from. Bein' aggressive doesn't help. I've been aggressive. With an' without my clothes on. He still only ever tells me t'go away.