There, there. Richard pats his left hand over the back of her bloodless right, and also uses it to assist in gently (wincingly) prying it off whatever crunched cartilage and bone remains of his half of the shake.

“If she does, she'll let you know,” he tells her, and stands to lead the way to the door, on the subject of sunny rock indulgence.

“Should you have any questions, you know how to find me.”