It took every ounce of resolve Heather had not to reply 'I know' to the introduction.

Instead she just smiled stiffly and nodded.

She lingered on the handshake, though. It was true, it did say a lot about a person-- but in this case, Heather wasn't shaking like she often did, which was with one of those painfully-tight, 'what'll ya give me if I stop?' tomboy grips she'd used ever since she'd realized that people made funny faces when a cute little girl crushed their fingers. Instead it was careful-- almost like she was worried she'd BREAK the hand she was shaking.

She wasn't, but there was still a lot going through her head.

These were the hands that had held hers when she crossed streets, had turned the pages of well-worn storybooks on nights before bed, had made clawy 'gonna getchu!' motions when they'd played.

Or... well, they were the hands that would.

Then she broke the spell by letting go abruptly with another shrug.

"We can wait 'till it cools off a bit before we keep walking."

Turning, she headed back over to her own spot and nudged her bag and its precious contents further into the shade. She didn't want that egg to wind up cooked alive in the direct sunlight. Then, looking over her shoulder at the more-dejected of the two men, she jerked her thumb over to some trees.

"James, do you have a minute? We gotta talk."