Theo took Greg's words in because he'd been trained not to interrupt, but he shook his head in denial both of what Greg was saying and his lover's casual attitude to something he thought at times was his father, Death Eaters, Voldemort or, sometimes, the staff at Mungo's.
He opened his mouth to protest, 'they're coming!', but he held his tongue as Greg spoke on, sinking in on himself like a little bird as he listened. How was he supposed to argue now?
He was quiet for a long time, long enough that the warmth came back to his feet which bled again, red dropping in fat drop like yew berries into the snow. Eventually he seemed to stop struggling with himself and appeared to make a decision. "We'll stay." he said between chattering teeth, again reaching to pet at Greg's soft hair, vowing not to let down his guard, not to waste any time on eat or sleep until the approaching 'thing' had been defeated.