Even the slightest movement of Catra's hand, that timid brush of thumb, is enough to send shivers up Adora's spine. Or maybe it's because it's so light that it affects her this way, such an odd contrast to Catra's rough, grabbing hands and carelessly jutting claws. If Adora didn't know better, she'd think she's doing this on purpose, to tease her, but one look at Catra's face disperses any and all such suspicions. The tremble to her voice, too.

It's so unlike Catra to hesitate like this-- but it figures that of all times, she'd pick now, when Adora needs her to take the reins more than ever.

She really doesn't trust herself to take the lead when she's running in blind.

"Catra," she answers sternly, locking her gaze onto hers. "This is the only thing I've been able to think about since last night. I've been going crazy over it. It's been hell."

Adora has to swallow, then, loosening her grip on Catra's wrist so she can cover the back of her hand with her own. Encouragement, she hopes.

"So-- yeah. Pretty sure."