Leaning into Dean's hand, Inara smiled wistfully. It was difficult for him to understand the full weight of what she could bear, if she needed to, as a Companion. She didn't expect him to know, so she didn't bristle at being treated like she was fragile. That was one of the finer points of being a Companion, after all - looking like a porcelain doll, having the manners of a queen and the strength and endurance of the mountains.
"Worry about yourself, Dean," she said, gently touching the back of his hand with her fingertips. "And leave the rest to the professionals." A sparkle of laughter glinted in her dark eyes, and she turned her face slightly, brushing her lips against Dean's wrist.