[Again, the pole-axed expression. He can't quite seem to wipe it from his face. He fully expected this to end... badly.

But what part of this had been as he expected?

His vocal processor refuses to function as well. Never, in any brief, squashed little fantasy had he ever thought of... anything like this. Never wanted it--it had never been important. And then this place had happened... and all he wanted was to never leave his friend's side.

He doesn't try to say anything--speech has never been his strong suit. Instead, he steps forward again, resting his forehead against the other's.]

You... sure you can deal with me? Until... the end?