He doesn't pull away even though he knows they've been standing like this, York's front pressed against his back that it's gone a bit beyond a friendly but. It just feels too good to stop right now. Grounding. He can almost believe that he is like he was back then, like he's who York remembers him being.

"Con is was the only one of us with half a brain between us," he says, his voice hoarse. "She knew before any of us. Should've dug deeper when she wasn't up there, when she stopped being Connie and told me to call her CT instead." And he'd just let it slide. Let her pull away because he was too blindly loyal for her to consider trustworthy.

He raises a hand to brush against York's where it's wrapped around him, tracing over his fingers lightly.