[ Bastien's eyes shut at the nose rub, and they open fond and crinkled in the corners. ]

My darling contradiction.

[ He tries to strain that little bit further down to kiss him, but a muscle twinges, and instead he hisses ow, old and sits up straight. ]

Alright. [ He rubs his side, which is already fine again. He isn't that old. ] I will take trying. Now—don't move.

[ He has to go finish making the drink and gather other supplies from here and there around the office. When he comes back it's with a steaming cup, the leftover orange pieces, the fluffy blanket bestowed on Byerly that morning, and a jug of water. It takes some juggling to get them all down within arm's reach of the couch, but he manages without spilling anything. ]

I had myself convinced you were safe up here, [ he confesses, gesturing for Byerly to sit up—a little, at least—to take the cup and make room. ]