[though he'd never admit it, the touch brings some small measure of calm to his scattered thoughts. He's so used to keeping these emotions hidden, he's gotten so good at it that the moment's breather is all he needs to turn back to her, to visibly straighten, running his fingers up her hand in slow, conscious awkward reciprocation]
...Thank you.
[he was recovering, slowly, locking down emotions again, burying the ones that threatened to overwhelm the reason and order he prized so much.]
no subject
...Thank you.
[he was recovering, slowly, locking down emotions again, burying the ones that threatened to overwhelm the reason and order he prized so much.]