@commaless cast message: just holds his hand. squeezes it tight.
when he watches a man die by fire, even if not of his own hand, he reaches for nott’s hand afterwards when it’s safe and his ability to protect his little friend is no longer dependent on the availability of his hands---she doesn’t know why he needs it, but she holds the hand all the same. when he breaks down in front of the nein for the first time, can’t control the flood of memories soon enough to give him time to hide from it, he waits until the attention has moved to other things and there’s a sky and clear air around them and reaches for her again---she knows a little bit why he needs it that time, as much as mollymauk or beauregard, as much as having an understanding that he’s not okay even if his mouth is capable of forming the claim.
after he tells her everything ( well, everything that matters, everything he needs to tell to someone ), she reaches for his hand often, and he for hers. no longer just as a gesture of being an unit or out of safety and security, but out of comfort---it’s casual, except when it’s anything but, and it’s common. he responds to it without thinking about it, is able to not have his thoughts be distracted by it when he doesn’t want to; it becomes familiar, easy as breathing, a comforting little pressure around his hand when he needs it, or when it just feels right.
as they walk out from the castle, she reaches for him---this time, she knows everything about why the hand in hers feels cold, why sweat pools beneath his hair and cloak, why his eyes look up to people when talked to but still seems to make no contact, even when he is staring right at them---and he feels her grip around his hand... acknowledges it, more like, and the thing in his brain that’s allowing him to take steps ahead and repeat words from a chamber of eighteen-year-old memories tarnished with blood tells him to respond to it---his fingers curl around nott’s. it’s cold, emotionless, weightless; something automated trying to be a human.
( but his eyes do glance down, head turning just slightly; for a moment, he simply stares, too much emotion loaded in his eyes as opposed to too little, expression as if trying to decide if it should be a broken ‘ sorry ’ or ‘ thank you ’ that follows it.
he has to turn away before he gets to make the decision. )