[The worst part about this particular mess is that, where ordinarily his instinct would be to get up and shoulder past her and just leave, he's not about to do that. He could, but he'd have to limp, and there's really no way of making an exit like that with dignity while hobbling, so.

He just closes his eyes instead.]

I did caution that you'd regret coming here. So you needn't stay, if you're dissatisfied.

[...Oh. Oh. He's doing the "I'm being a shit father because I'm caught up in my own emotions and taking it out on my child who desires my affection but doesn't understand why I'm withholding it" thing again.

...ONE MORE THING TO FEEL INSECURE ABOUT \o/ ]

...Normally. When I find myself brooding over things. I would be able to go find some exertion in the gym or a fight, tire myself out to stop thinking on them. And I would, but I suspect pushing myself to the limits I want to push myself to would aggravate the burns on my legs and put my heart at risk, and you and others would disapprove of me doing that to myself.

So I'm staying put, with no outlet. That's what it is.

I ran out of songs to play. Twelve help me, I've started writing them, even.

[He's not saying he's good at it either, but rather just offering this up as a mark of how far his sanity is slipping.]

I saw you've been harassing Harrow, speaking of.

Disgusting in which sense?

[She gets a laugh out of him, though, at the prospect of the targeted crusade of dirty sailing song harassment, up until he notes the redness in her ears and cocks his head in curiosity.]

...Something you're not telling me, Nav?

It's a love song and I'll sing it if you don't circumvent me by fessing up.

[it's probably not a love song but also: against gideon this is a credible threat.]

You don't want your hands anywhere close to my burns. I know you too well.

[He says, equally mildly.]

...Ah. And it was something she didn't have herself, before? Among her own memories.

[It wouldn't sound like a lot, to most. To a normal person, maybe it wouldn't even sound like anything at all, much less affection, and less still romance.

But Thancred is a tank whose nearest and dearest are mages and soft agile fighters, and he can imagine precisely what it would feel like to hear someone say I don't want anyone other than you to protect me, I want you to be the one between me and danger.

Seven hells. On some lips that'd practically be a marriage proposal.]

Good. Good for you both.

[He pauses. Debates with himself, a moment.]

I envy you, really.

Well, not here.

[Maybe that's the part he's envious of, horrible a wish it would be in reality for so many other reasons.]

In a way I envy all of it. The two of you when you're at each other's throats and when you've just reached an accord, and everything in between. In a place like this, having someone yours in a manner unique to you and only you...

[He shrugs a little.]

Oh, I'm certain there are moments it drives you mad. But in other ones, it must be nice.

[He is, in fact, so smart.]

Well. Between the two of us, we'll do our damnedest to ensure you never have to find out. Mm?

[He regards her for a long, thoughtful moment, basking in the way she smiles and the manner in which she offers up that tidbit of knowledge, and after letting it settle comfortably into the stillness between them, he extends to her the highest offer of support in any star and on any boneplanet, and pronounces: ]

Gross.

[ATTAGIRL.]

Was it your first?

They'll get better.

[Heh heh heh.]

I'm only helping you set proper expectations. First kisses have a certain romanticism about them but rest assured, experience makes a difference.

[It is his moral obligation to make her suffer and so he shall.]