*is embarrassingly grateful for that bit of contact, and recalls that you always were good at gauging how close to be (he's by far the moodier of them)*
*glances up when you tap him, eyes wet and distressed* *digests your question and blinks, at a loss* *what does one do when one's world has just crumbled into confetti and one is probably the worst son/former son in Órë?*
*can't quite muster a smile, but after a moment's thought, huffs out a silent almost-laugh* *tiredly* Same thing we do every night, Pinky. *shrugs* We finish freaking out.