His arms go around her the second she steps forward, and he's thankful that she didn't change her mind, so thankful because this is the first step, always. His hands settle on her hips, bringing her close, and he kisses her back with equal gusto, if less desperation. But there's something else, too, he needs those kisses to be a lot less fueled by tipsy irritation and need, so he very purposefully tames them down, murmurs her name against her lips before he kisses her again, a reminder of who each one of them is, before he's kissing her some more, and raising his hands to cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks like she's so precious, because she is, no matter what she thinks.