It's harder than ever to keep secrets from each other. It feels fair; it's never ended well when they've tried. She can read his tension, even if she can't interpret it fully. That's a function of distance as much as anything; understanding his mood needs more context than she's got, data locked away in the time they spent apart. It doesn't mean she's lost the knack, really.

She doesn't move her hand.

"Do you even want a dog? You hated poor Queequeg."

It's like a weird, unspoken parody of conversations they used to have before. Do you ever think of settling down? Getting off the road? A family, a dog, a picket fence? Move to the suburbs and stay together forever?