It was impossible to speak, even to answer her question. She was still touching him. What's more, she'd touched his chest and his mouth too. Plus she'd kissed his cheek. All Hedylogos was able to do was nod. He wasn't even completely certain where his hangup was. It was not always that the person he was going to speak to was particularly scary: he was quiet and sometimes even stuttered with family. The idea that he might sound foolish was always a concern.
Hedylogos was always in the shadow of his more gregarious siblings and very silver-tongued father. Which was why words in front of others came out in spurts or stutters from time to time.
But, he had an idea, since Philotes was being very nice and was trying to help. He nodded again and set one hand beside him on the green where a rolled up bit of paper that hadn't been there a moment before was suddenly. If he wasn't able to say it out loud, perhaps he could show her. All it was, the paper, was the written form of what he'd been trying to recite earlier into the mirror and failing.
“I... write,” he said with a heavy swallow and held the paper out to her.