He held one hand up, in apology and defence. "I did not mean to complain," he said. "Simply that I think you exert more awareness for things than most of our companions and comrades back home, and that you are easily loved." Then his lips quirked into a smile, amused at her. "I was complimenting you again. You see what I mean, when I say you never notice?"

He shifted on the grass, which was slowly getting trampled down to accommodate their bodies, and held the cold wine bottle, already beginning to sweat, out to her. He met her eyes and for a moment he remembered, very easily, how he had once found her so distant he could not find the courage to even reach for her, years ago. Now it was so, so easy, and that was difficult to comprehend because for another moment it felt like nothing had really changed. But then he remembered he had, and she certainly had, and he was thinking about ghosts.

"More so?" he echoed. "It pleases me to hear it."