It makes her breath catch, the thought that he might reach for her, but she doesn't seem disappointed that he doesn't. She reaches for him instead, hand just resting on his softly.

"I don--Do you think I do? Do you worry I hate you? Oh Psiioniic. Dear, I'd never hate you. Nefur." The pun is pushed out almost awkwardly, so unused to the playfulness inherent in it. She tries to smile as she says, "You're my Psiionic. My 22. My tuna."