She makes a warm but wry sound at his statement, because of course he is. They always are, until they're not, and then it's usually too late to actually delve into who's okay because they're running for their lives. So fine, he's okay, but that doesn't mean there's nothing she can do.
Shifting a bit, she settles herself at more of an eye-level so she can lean in and give him a kiss, faint booze-breath be damned. Not for too long, though, because next she wraps her arms around him and there's so much in the embrace that she can't possibly do two things at once; she rarely clings this much when they're not screwing around, but something in her just knows he needs it, even if she can't define exactly what's in his head.
"We'll figure this out," she says, her voice soft but utterly certain. "We didn't survive everything back home and cross God knows how many dimensions to end up at the mercy of some pitchfork mob or a little cold weather."
If she hadn't curled around him he'd be fine, too, but this is-- better. Worth it, and he relaxes a little. Just a bit, because there's still too much weighing on him to let it all loose, but it's something.
He can't really find the right thing to say to it so he just hums in response, some soft sketch of an assent. They'll be all right. Gotta be.
His slight relaxation is a victory, but a minute one. It's not that she assumed her reassurances would make everything suddenly easy and okay, but she can never help worrying; he's far too important to her.
"Do you want to tell me what's on your mind?" she asks, not yet letting go, "or should I shut up and we'll get some sleep?" Either answer really is fine, she just has a feeling if she didn't at least try she'd regret it later.
Things won't be easy, or okay. But he's all right; that's the honest truth. He never expected things to be stable. It was a nice fantasy, for a while, that they could settle in and not have to worry, but they've always been ready, too. This isn't quite the trouble he expected, but they'll weather it. They do.
"Thought I did," he murmurs, a little surprised, though maybe he shouldn't be. Lord knows all that was scattered and half-baked. He's just not sure how to say anything more than what hes said.
Chuckling, she concedes defeat. "Fair enough." He didn't say much, but evidently it was all he's interested in discussing. It's nothing new. In fact, her attempting to drag more out of him is the new part, and it's no surprise that he's not spilling his guts. (Honestly, she wouldn't know what to do with those guts if they did spill.)
"Wanna get some rest... or do you need to be tired out first?" She's joking, of course, given the mood -- but, as always, their jokes are never really "just" jokes.
Anything he's not saying, at this point, is simply something he can't; feelings that won't condense into words, worries too shapeless to voice. She's been good about being honest with him, which is the one thing he's always hounding her for, and he tries to be with her, too.
The tease gets a little huff of a laugh, but he's tired enough to leave the joke a joke, so he just stretches out alongside her, trying to settle comfortably.
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Shifting a bit, she settles herself at more of an eye-level so she can lean in and give him a kiss, faint booze-breath be damned. Not for too long, though, because next she wraps her arms around him and there's so much in the embrace that she can't possibly do two things at once; she rarely clings this much when they're not screwing around, but something in her just knows he needs it, even if she can't define exactly what's in his head.
"We'll figure this out," she says, her voice soft but utterly certain. "We didn't survive everything back home and cross God knows how many dimensions to end up at the mercy of some pitchfork mob or a little cold weather."
no subject
He can't really find the right thing to say to it so he just hums in response, some soft sketch of an assent. They'll be all right. Gotta be.
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"Do you want to tell me what's on your mind?" she asks, not yet letting go, "or should I shut up and we'll get some sleep?" Either answer really is fine, she just has a feeling if she didn't at least try she'd regret it later.
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"Thought I did," he murmurs, a little surprised, though maybe he shouldn't be. Lord knows all that was scattered and half-baked. He's just not sure how to say anything more than what hes said.
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"Wanna get some rest... or do you need to be tired out first?" She's joking, of course, given the mood -- but, as always, their jokes are never really "just" jokes.
no subject
The tease gets a little huff of a laugh, but he's tired enough to leave the joke a joke, so he just stretches out alongside her, trying to settle comfortably.