[After shutting himself in the pantry for as long as it took to stop crying, there's enough of his shift and work to do that it - that specific pain - can settle back down to where it always lays, deep at the bottom of his mind. Ever present, ever potent, but rarely disturbed quite as strongly as Gilia had managed to.
Not that it was her fault, and he doesn't flinch or turn from her when he sees her. He leans into it, for that moment, the contact. Then shrugs when she steps back.]
It's fine, you didn't know. [More concerning:] How long have you been out here?
[ She would not turn it down, her fingers curling between his, as she looks up at the sky, briefly, then back down to him - but it's with a rueful smile. ]
This might as well be spring, to me. I promise, I am not that cold.
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Not that it was her fault, and he doesn't flinch or turn from her when he sees her. He leans into it, for that moment, the contact. Then shrugs when she steps back.]
It's fine, you didn't know. [More concerning:] How long have you been out here?
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Stepping back, she lingers in it, letting her hand slip to his, squeezing it tightly, and then finally drops it at last to step back. ]
As long as I needed. I have my embroidery to do, and I can do that just about anywhere.
[ Nuhhuh, don't you turn this back on her, it's his turn to be taken care of. ]
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This might as well be spring, to me. I promise, I am not that cold.