[Veyle lets out a startled little 'oh!' when she's suddenly gathered into his lap, and she still can't help the instinctual way she tenses; affection has been rare enough in her life that she tends to associate contact with pain, the urge to protect herself or run away. But this isn't that. He's warm, and nice, and he wants her around because they understand each other.
She forces her panicked instincts to settle.]
Um... There, there. [She laughs, a little sheepish, and lifts an arm to pats his hair.] I'm sure you won't die...! You're very strong.
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She forces her panicked instincts to settle.]
Um... There, there. [She laughs, a little sheepish, and lifts an arm to pats his hair.] I'm sure you won't die...! You're very strong.