He tries not to pull in a breath, tries not to react like that does something, like that means something. He spends more than enough time with Furiosa that it isn't like he never spends time with women, like he never touches women. But this isn't the same thing.

He doesn't know why, but it's not the same thing.

He's suddenly grateful that the flood didn't affect her, because he can work on keeping his face neutral as he looks at her hand, but he wouldn't have been able to hide his confusion, nor the quick spike of joy and affection. When he realizes he should've reacted already, he reaches over with his other hand to cover hers.

"Good," he says, firmly. "I'd've been disappointed if it wasn't."