His gaze softened and he smiled at her, the bittersweet nature of the moment not lost on him. They'd nearly died, and tons of terrible things had happened in quick succession to make him feel that way, but he knew that in the years to come they could probably do this—just sit together and enjoy the company—after weeks, potentially months, without seeing each other. "I don't like to admit that I need anything—but thank you. It's good to know," he said, his gaze dropping from her face to the empty space on the sofa between them.

His mind went to his home. The Hebrides had beaches, plenty of them. Some had white sand, others grass; some shorelines were rockier and raised off the ground, and others provided the perfect spot to jump into the waters below. He'd seen some of his cousins do it many times in the past, yet he'd never found the allure of diving twenty feet into the water below.

"You should come visit," he said, his eyes finding hers once more. He accepted the end of the blanket, but hesitated. It was small and unlikely to cover them both, and she had to know it, too. She'd sacrificed warmth for him before, and even though it was not a pressing matter, a life-or-death decision, it was almost symbolic. Gaze dropping once more, he scooted towards her and motioned for her to sit beside him. "My home is as small as this flat and not nearly as homey, but you'd enjoy the isles."

---