Looking the place over, she decides it wouldn't be a bad spot to spend the day — and the night. She's slept in far worse conditions before, and at least here they're out of sight and he can be himself for a while. It's clear from watching him move around that he's enjoying being in this form again, and she'd much rather consider his comfort over her own. After all, so long as they're together, she'll be just fine.

After thirty seconds of watching Knock Out try and fail to remove the reminders of their time in the cornfield, she sets down her backpack and waves her hands at his, shooing them away.

"You're just making it worse, sugar, let me do that," she instructs with fondness, tugging off her gloves and tucking them into pockets so they won't get dirty as she works. Her small hands easily grasp hold of the chaff and pull the pieces loose where he'd only managed to shred them further. With deliberate care, she tugs one piece free and then another, concentrating on not letting her skin touch him while she works.