No one had ever called Morrigan casual or laid-back, and so she did not engage in casual or laid-back contact, either. Every touch was deliberate, and she knew that was something she and Krishna had in common. Perhaps such a light, seemingly accidental touch would be insignificant to most, but to Morrie, that he didn't move his hand away was response enough.
His words unsettled her, though. You want him back. She didn't want to admit to that, because it made it all the more difficult if it didn't work out, and Morrie wasn't in control of that. That was up to Lachlan. She had already reached out. She had asked him to come home. What Lachlan did now that he was here was up to him, and she wasn't going to beg him to care about her.
So, she shrugged noncommittally, but her voice was firm as she said, "I can handle Lachlan, Krishna. Whether he tries to make amends or not."
She wasn't sure if that was true, but she wanted it to be true, and she wanted Krishna to believe it. He didn't need to worry over her, though Morrie had a feeling he often did. Worry felt too much like pity for her liking, though, so she would prefer if he would just leave it alone, even if on some level she was aware he was just looking out for her.
"Of course Cal knows. Cal knows everything," Morrie drawled, her tone a bit wry. It was true though, really. Cal knew more of Morrie's private thoughts and personal business than anyone else in town, and she was sure that was true for many people in town. Admission was for unburdening oneself, and so many of them laid their burdens upon his shoulders to forgive. Even Morrie, who still did so out of habit or friendship, if not out of faith, though she often felt guilty for sharing her troubles with him when he already carried so much. "Why?"