[Paul's hand still knows how to fit to Falco's. It's something he wouldn't have questioned until the first brush of their fingers together, and then it consumed him for a lurching, hideous moment before being dispelled. He answers Falco's pressing squeeze with a last half-hug of his own, long arm looped around small shoulders, and rises to his feet.
He can let Falco lead him, and that, too, is a thing he didn't doubt until the instant he did. His grip is gentle but firm, grounding, tethering.]
I'd like that.
[He knows what it's like, to want to take care of people - and it reminds him of the thermos of milk in his bag, which he turns to retrieve and offer to Falco, tentativeness crossing his expression for the first time in place of guilt or sorrow.]
I brought milk. I thought you might be thirsty. I have tea.
[Since he knows Falco, too; he puts other people before himself, and those he cares about even further ahead.]
no subject
He can let Falco lead him, and that, too, is a thing he didn't doubt until the instant he did. His grip is gentle but firm, grounding, tethering.]
I'd like that.
[He knows what it's like, to want to take care of people - and it reminds him of the thermos of milk in his bag, which he turns to retrieve and offer to Falco, tentativeness crossing his expression for the first time in place of guilt or sorrow.]
I brought milk. I thought you might be thirsty. I have tea.
[Since he knows Falco, too; he puts other people before himself, and those he cares about even further ahead.]