There was an almost instinctive turn of he head at his approach but Sekhmet’s faced remained relaxed and collected as Kweku looked over the scene and herself. His low grumble was met with the puffing sound akin to a big cat a greeting of some elusive sense of happiness intertwined with pleasure. He was a dear companion to her after all. He was strong and capable, compared to some who were witty and sharp of tongue, yet they were all valuable to her. They were her own and perhaps this is the reason she had fought so savagely to protect them this day.
At his question her tongue simply washed over her lips before offering a slight grin, an inside joke one might think.
While the sting in her heel persisted and her body could probably use the rest she wasn’t quite ready to relax. A soft growl escaped her muzzle lunging at Kweku, she aimed to grab the plush winter fur on his neck where it met the shoulder. Sekhmet would pull roughly or shake her head; after all, this was her expression of joy at it’s purest. This reminded her of the time they had in the tundra and it was the best way she could express some form of bonding even reaffirming it at least. He had a habit of lounging around that she had noticed, so perhaps it served some mild punishment for lazing away as well.