They’re utterly hopeless, he has already pretty much accepted that. It’d probably be for the best if he never actually tries to look good for her, because chances are someone’d break a bone.

Since it’s more than obvious that she’s not laughing at him, though, he grins and half-laughs along with her, trying to wriggle in a complementary way to help her out. It’s somehow more difficult than it ought to be. Eventually their undignified tangle of limbs settles, and he takes advantage of the shift in positions to run a hand through her hair, because if she gets to play with his he gets to ruffle hers a bit. Fair’s fair.

“You come here often?” he deadpans, because he really has no idea what to say either, but at least that might make her laugh again.