[he returns the squeeze, and shuffles a bit closer to her, also watching the fireflies. The lull in conversation, and with it the distraction of having things to say, has opened a space in his thoughts, and the memory of the events of the evening after their shared dreaming experiences floats up and fills it.]
[he clears his throat softly, suddenly nervous, and looks down at their clasped hands, trying to gather words. Should he say something? Is now the right time? He doesn't know, but waiting like this is nearly agony, especially when she's holding his hand.]