She hadn't expected Fletcher to show up in her bar, hadn't expected to see him after they'd met in California, hadn't expected anything beyond what had happened to them before. But now, as she kisses him and smiles against his mouth when he agrees they're stuck with one another, whatever slight bit of armor that might've remained between them is gone.
Cora wriggles out of his grasp, jogs lightly to lock the bar and flip the sign on the door to closed, turning the gas lamps down to a low, blue guttering flame, then pounces on Fletcher again. It was empty. Why the hell not?