Her head whipped around as he pushed her down, as if ready to spit some vituperation at him, but it was forestalled upon her lips as her eyes locked on something unseen beside his head. Her hands were beneath her on the table, but one reached up and back over her own shoulder, strong and calloused fingers twisting gently into his hair. "Fields need not always be plowed for a seed to take root," she hummed, "nature finds its way where it wills."