She shies away from the mental contact, at first, sullenly instinctive. But he isn't pushing, and he feels like - like the hearth that was Jean's soul, before it was snuffed out.

So, after a beat of strained hesitation where he doesn't push her, she closes her eyes and lets herself sink into it.

Still, she murmurs low and sharp, "Careful. I'll always encourage bloodshed on my behalf."