Remy murmured and leaned into the touch, guiding Miniver with one arm at the poet's waist to come have a seat on his lap. He didn't speak, even when he set aside the whiskey to put a hand through the tangle of curls. Even if they had been away from each other for years, Miniver was some sort of familiarity, and he needed that the most just then.
Not to mention, but he'd been deprived of sex for a whole two days, and that just didn't sit well with him.