"Whatever else you may be, you are also a man, darling," she points out with a wry little smile; that is to say, it's not outside the realm of possibility regardless.

All that aside, she smiles at the sweet kiss and reluctantly extricates herself from his arms so she can change into a different gown to go eat in, regardless of the fact that the one she currently has on is perfectly fine and not even dirty yet.

The rules and mores she's expected to abide by at court are baffling at best. Honestly, Éomer much prefers life in the éored, even though she hopes against hope that she will never have to ride out with them again. She had been convinced that she would not survive Pelennor Fields, or the march on the Black Gates. That she has feels something like a cheat, almost, like she's not supposed to be here and everyone will realize any moment and she'll...well, the metaphor falls apart eventually, but still.

Turning her attention to the task at hand, she lets Eskel help her undress and then redress again, his big blunt fingers surprisingly deft at handling the small, fiddly laces of her gowns.