Tex's tendency is ignore it when she's off-kilter like this—she just grits her teeth and moves on, regardless of the physical reaction going on. Being questioned directly like this makes that harder. She's hanging on to him as if for dear life; she's far beyond hiding the fact that this is bothering her. She takes a slow breath and rolls her eyes upward for a second before forcing herself to soften her grip on him.

"It's okay," she says. "It'll be okay." It's one of those, anyway. She sighs and lowers his hand to her side, not really seeming prepared to let go. She's not really a fan of walking hand-in-hand but maybe she'll just hold on for a few moments longer before preparing to return to her room.

She had meant to treat the reminder of Allison that came via the hat as matter-of-factly as she treated the reminders of her own failures that came via the grenades. It wasn't that simple though—she should know that already just by her decision to put the hat away with the doll. She had thought it would be easy to space the doll once, and look how she failed at carrying through with that.

So she stands there, holding on to his hand with her head turned to the side, away from him, and if someone didn't know her better they'd wonder if she was trying to prevent herself from crying or what. It's not that, though—the only time Tex has ever cried was when she was hashing things out with Wash at the beach party on the planet where they ended up having sex. It wasn't like her then and it wouldn't be like her now. But quiet contemplation isn't beyond her at times, and she holds that pose for a few moments longer before she draws another breath, turning her head back toward him.

"Let's go back," she says. She deliberately releases his hand and starts for her room again.