"Helena," she said, with a smile and a tip of her head that made her bangs hop in then out of her eyes while she looked up through her lashes. She skipped the symphony of high harmonics that would make up the rest of her name. "It's a pleasure, Major Lorne."
Not that she didn't already know all that. The little chalk boards were quite useful.
She opened a door that you didn't notice until it was open. It was a room of hooks, dangling. They were exactly like meat hooks, but very small and blunt and brassy. Coats hung off several off them. Long red ones with too many buttons to be practical. Tan duster like ones straight out of the spaghetti western ages. Long tailed tux jackets. Long robes. Capes. "You can hang that here," she paused. "Your firearm, too, if you'd be comfortable with that. When we get to my reading room I'd ask you take it off, but you can keep in on you until then, if it makes you feel more secure. I understand you're overwhelmed."
Her hands on his arms tightened in a way that put the side of her breast to his elbow.