[ That gets a scoff, a breath followed by an incredulous laugh. It's not that he doesn't take this seriously, just— there's something lighter about the way he responds, here. A lack of pretense, if not a lack of his seemingly incurable affinity for drama. ]

Oh, please. Perish the thought.

[ For just a moment, he wiggles his fingers underneath hers, as though he might physically dispel even the slightest inkling that it might be her fault. His hand goes still again soon enough, open to her ministrations.

(He could hardly blame her, had she voiced the first words to come to mind. All things considered, he hasn't really given any of them much reason to trust him; he does the bare minimum as a party member, and isn't even close to forthcoming. Almost everything they've found out about him has been incidental, and it doesn't take too keen an eye to see that he's practically allergic to telling the truth. It's a miracle they keep him around — but he's grateful they do.)

For a beat, his gaze falls to their hands, following the lines she traces across his palm. ]

But, I must point out— [ his fingers curl, drawing her hand more solidly into his ] —I hardly think I'm the only one with a case of nerves.

[ It's the most they've really touched. It feels bizarre, to him, that they should have shared something sexual before broaching such a thing, but perhaps it's all been for the best. It makes him a little nervous, too, though there's no hint of anything but steadiness in his expression as he looks back up at her. ]

It'd be quite desperate, wouldn't it, if I asked if you meant it. That it's been— a memorable time.