Thanks are growing stale, she has so many of them for Chakotay, so Hadand just offers him another heartfelt smile at the assurance. She rises to see him to the door, but the offer catches her off guard. She stills, half-standing, for a moment before straightening.

"You really wouldn't mind?" she asks softly, incredulously. She might not have known Chakotay long, but he made no secret of how important his beliefs are to him. Everything they've shared tonight has driven that point very firmly home. Hadand felt honored—and any number of other warm and studiously unacknowledged emotions—to be invited to use it at all, even in Chakotay's presence. This? She isn't so oblivious that she could miss the weight of the offer.

With that in mind and hope singing through her, she loses the battle to keep him at arm's reach. Hadand doesn't kiss him, still fearful of overstepping bounds or burdening Chakotay with unwanted feelings. Once he's on his feet, though, she steps closer and wraps her arms around him in an embrace that's over all too quickly. She forces herself to back away.

It's the kind of affection she'd offer to a friend, Hadand tries to insist. It doesn't have to mean anything more. She knows that she'd convince no one with that argument, least of all herself. With far more conviction, she says aloud, "I'll keep it safe, then, and return it to you when we meet tomorrow."