It takes just a fraction of a second, if at all, to verify that his coin is still there, inside her, where it doesn't belong damn it, and there is a brief moment of almost longing welling up inside him. But he's not going to rip it out of her because he will regret it, and he already shoved it back into her rotting guts once. Sweeney finds his gaze wandering over her dress and he snorts. She never looked more like a discarded freaking doll than now.
His eyebrow raises in response to her warm greeting, and he shrugs. "Fuck if I know. One moment your husband prevented me from ending old One Eye, the next I was in the lobby of that bloody hotel." That he skims over the part where he died is coincidental and none of her business anyway.
When she approaches glaring at him like that he has to force himself to remain still and stand his ground, too many painful memories reminding him that she is a whole lot stronger than she looks and not afraid to hurt him. "And," he grumbles, his finger jabbing towards her breastbone, making him look like an overgrown, petulant child, "you still have my fucking coin."