Maybe we've just got invisible targets on our backs, or something. That's the only explanation I've got anymore.

[It's a bad habit. Even here, he keeps blundering into danger. Thankfully, though, doesn't seem like it's on the agenda today.]

[His hand tightens on hers in return. His steps drawing a little closer to hers - without comment, or realization. There's just something tense in her, for a beat, something unspoken putting him on alert. Being stupid tall means he can get a good look over the heads of the crowd, too, and spy their options.]

Looks like we've got a lot of options. And extra "hot pot soup".