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[ He frowns lightly, feeling like he hasn't said the right thing. He brushes Olivine's hair again, squeezing him closer. ] I like the way you are. [ His ears go back. He's not sure that means anything, but it's true. If it weren't, he wouldn't have had so much trouble leaving, or resisting being close like this.

He does ease some, though, at the response. And while he wants to know, he understands now is not the time. ]

You keep worrying about me, but who worries about you? Are the towns always like that?

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Basch fon Ronsenburg

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