It's not instant and she doesn't know if he will take her hand, while it floats there in the air, waiting.

Like he isn't certain it isn't going to bite him, but even more, floating there, she knows it's better than just reaching out. Than having just taken his hand. Than just assuming. (Than just treating him like Barry, where she wouldn't question it, wouldn't have waited.) It's a choice. Everyone is allowed to make their own choices. To be different people. To say yes, and even to -- though she holds her breath and heart hoping he won't -- say no.

When his hand touches hers, she curls her fingers gently and nods, repeating. "Promise."
Her eyes prick a little, but she pushes a small smile, trying to lighten it a little. "Cross my heart."