Qebhet snagged on a moment of hesitation. He seemed— did he seem uncomfortable? His whole body bristled with a twitchy, unsettled sort of energy— or maybe that was just her, maybe she was only projecting her own uncertainty onto him. Much was always a man in motion. Today more than usual, probably; he'd been pulled from place to place on a dozen different errands, racing the coming storm, and who wouldn't feel twitchy about a hurricane?
He smiled at her, and if there was something a touch manic at the edges of his grin— it was the weather, Qebhet told herself, and she smiled back, tentative but warm. "It's good to see you, too," she said. "Come in, please! I've made iced tea."