Layla makes a small, amused sound in the back of her throat, not quite a laugh, but definitely in that family. "I'm pretty sure you'd get a crick in your neck in the first half hour," she says, mock-rueful. "And yeah, sometimes. Depends on his mood a bit."

Having determined that his hair's probably as neat as it's going to get - and recalled now to self-consciousness - she takes one last gentle pass before dropping her hand to cover his instead, so that it's sandwiched between both of hers.

"Let's take a look around, hmm? I really do think you'll like this place."