"I... if you want to read it... I think... you should." He sits close to Skwisgaar, curled up, breathing heavily to keep control, his hands shaking a little as he constantly swipes his hair out of his face or back, and adjusts his sleeves, and gives light touches to Skeisgaar's arms or hands or back. "Just... if it's okay, can I sit here a few minutes with you?"
H doesn't want to wander off, either. He knows what will happen and he doesn't want to let himself be the pathetic old drunk who runs away and has to spend a few minutes in some corner sobbing into a bottle before he can deal with this. So he opts instead for curling up with his arms around his knees and resting his head on Skewisgaar's shoulder, sniffing a little from time to time but still not letting himself break. Not yet.