Her hands still at his shoulder, and she purses her lips slightly, Ravenclaw intellect demanding to know whatever it is he keeps alluding to, her vague, tentative grasp on social custom telling her that this isn't the kind of thing you ask about.

She settles for rubbing his shoulder through the plantsuit and ceasing her odd ministrations.

"If it helps, this ship's quite light," she says, smile evident in her tone.