He has plenty of confidence. He's a goddamn good shot and he's known very few better trackers in his life. He's a survivor. Those are things he's good at. Emotional stuff, though, he doesn't have much reason to be confident about that.

"Bossy," he mutters as she grabs him, not actually complaining, not even a little. He does better with direction, and moreover, it's nice to be rather obviously wanted. It always is, even if he never understands why.

So he helps himself to a cookie, and to her lap, sprawling onto the couch and throwing his feet on the arm, resting his shoulders and head on Carol's legs.

See, you were definitely inviting trouble with this plan.