Morrigan angled a small smile at Krishna for his first comment, which grew just a little bit warmer when his big, warm hand clasped hers. The firm touch was grounding, steadying, and she brushed her thumb over his wrist in an almost affectionate manner before she released him. If she were a more naturally affectionate and touchie feelie person, she might have leaned towards him, might have sought more contact than just a handshake. But she wasn't, so she just let the corners of her mouth curl up in a small, but still genuine expression of her fondness for Krishna. She thought he would probably see the sincerity of it, if he read her properly.
Still, because it was her nature, she couldn't help the way her smile twisted slightly after a moment, as reality crept in and she added wryly, "Inaction has meaning as well."
Those words had meaning in the context of the other Kelly, after all, because his inaction with respect to the fire's consequences was precisely why Morrie and Krishna had to clean up after him without him. Still, Krishna was right. Morrie had admitted to Krishna that she had brought Lachlan home, so it wasn't as though she could really pretend that she didn't care about him.
"Well, he wouldn't deserve it," she said in response, which wasn't an outright agreement, but it certainly wasn't a denial. Even if he wouldn't deserve it, she would help Lachlan she supposed, because that was what family meant to her even if it didn't mean that to him.
She was tempted to justify that declaration by explaining that Lachlan hadn't even said happy birthday to Morrie that day, but... well, that felt like a private pain, one that she wished to keep to herself. Still, the thought had her freshly released hand moving to idly finger the one gift she had received. The new cane from Calvin. And he'd given it to her in a way that she so appreciated, too -- he had just left it for her to find, with a note. No confrontation, no requirement to express gratitude, no expectations for her to fuss over his gift. Just a very welcome and beautiful reminder that he, at least, had remembered her birthday, and wished to show that he cared.
Morrie stroked her thumb over the smooth painted handle appreciatively, turning her eyes away from Krishna and back up to the red that was just beginning to fade from the moon. The eclipse was ending. It hardly seemed like anything, to have run into Krishna that evening, to have had this moment to sit in the town square and converse with him. But small thing or not, Morrie was glad for it.
"I am glad that you allowed me to monopolize your time this evening. I thought I wanted to be alone, but this was better."