Yeah, she's not buying that he really knows it's fine, or at least she can tell he's tryna convince himself more than her. She keeps rubbing steady circles into the back of his hand with her thumb and really wishes she could wreck somebody's shit to fix all this, this... heart-hammering panic visible in every pinched line of his quaking ears, in every nervous tic and painfully controlled breath. For all his worrying and vigilance this isn't something he was all that prone to before their separation, she'd have to go pretty far back in her memory of their childhood to find something comparable and, shit, she's just gonna sidestep thinking about his fake childhood entirely at this point. Though she really wants to know how his cooking could have gone so horribly off the rails, but now isn't the time to drag it out any more than it was last night. She wasn't there for him when she should've been, but now she is.

"Pumpkin, he was so far up his own trauma I don't think he picked up on yours. It's not gonna be weird if we don't let it." And who's the best at owning the stage, setting the scene? That's right, it's them. "The best way out is through - fantasy Robert Frost, now Lup." And it looks like they're about to get a chance at proving that, because here comes Newt, still looking pretty rough but slightly more manageable than before. She smiles encouragingly at Taako, much softer than her irreverent banter was, and then steps forward with him still in tow. She's gonna juggle these two like beautiful fragile Faberge eggs. "Just can't get enough of that sweet elven charm, huh?" she calls out to Newt with a disarming grin like nothing was ever horribly wrong, though one ear remains canted watchfully towards her brother. "It's cool, we get it."