"It's not me I was worried about." She tilts her head into his touch. If he wants to tangle himself up in her hair, she can't find any argument against it right now. His fascination with her hair has always been something worth amusement rather than scorn, not to mention a great deal of fondness. If it means touching a little more of him, who's she to complain. Besides, soon enough, they're going to leave Endor, and she'll have to leave behind this loose, simple style.

At least it seems pretty clear that she's not going to be leaving behind him as well. Her free hand settles down against his thigh, squeezing lightly; she might as well take advantage of the fact that her birth father hasn't retroactively destroyed this good thing, among all the other good things he left in ruins.