Her stance is almost awkward until he rises again, the picture disappearing into his pocket, and he kisses her.

It's not like before, when they were down in the lounge. There's need -- even want -- but it doesn't feel like he's going the extra mile to send desire spreading through her like wildfire, and she knows what it's like when he does.

Even so, his kiss burns into her mind like the presence of the tape in her pocket does. He has her attention; her hand spreads against his jaw until the kiss is over.

And when it is, she's not sure what to say.

"Thanks." The words are thick when they come out. "For the tape."

Whatever his reasons were, they don't seem to matter much at that moment.