[He's close enough that she can probably hear his throat work as he swallows.]

[The hand that had been in her hair curls its fingers closed, around nothing.]

...yeah.

[He'd been leaning up against her, still, most of his weight pressed into her side, but he shifts now - reluctant, not entirely steady - so that he's sitting up under his own power. So that there's some space between them, again.]

Y-yeah, I - sorry.