She hasn't pulled her hair back up. It hangs absently around her face, long and loose and obviously protective. It's still clearly not what keeps Eileen from noticing that Zoë's appeared at the door for a few heartbeats.

But what has blocked out notice doesn't seem terribly permanent. Eileen's features don't turn shining, but she does brighten a bit as she sets down her book and drags to her feet.

"Something like that."

More in order, clearly, would be a slightly careful hug.