His hand is his. That makes it nice enough for her. If she's given him the impression that she thinks less of him because he works hard, she'll have to remedy that. It was never a classist thing that keeps her at a distance; an overdeveloped sense of stranger danger doesn't care what someone does for a living.

Comforting people isn't really in her wheelhouse. She's trying to get better at it, but oddly, people don't want to be her study buddy/test subject for this sort of thing.

She considers the confession for a moment before she shrugs. "My first and only friend where I'm from was the second reincarnation of a god of evil. He was trying to work off his predecessor's karmic debt. It got me kidnapped once by a would-be world-conquering tyrant. I had to lie to a four-year-old in order to get her help getting out."

And she wouldn't change any of it for the world. So, in other words: it's fine. She's used to having dangerous friends.

(Okay, she'd change the part about lying to a kid if she could.)